


Prompts and Drabble Collection

by lucycamui



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Crack, Domestic, Drabble Collection, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2018-10-20 10:54:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 32,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10661109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucycamui/pseuds/lucycamui
Summary: A collection of short prompts and drabbles.





	1. The Angst to Fluff Challenge

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter will be dedicated to a prompt theme, will update as I go along.   
> Rating of each will range from General to Mature. 
> 
> Most of these are short and silly, feel free to send me prompts on tumblr at [lucycamui](https://lucycamui.tumblr.com)

**Tumblr prompt: Give me a sad/angsty line, I'll change it into something fluffy**

 

_Line: "I can't do this anymore."_

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Victor froze, head snapping up to look at Yuuri across the kitchen counter. The Japanese man stood in his pyjamas, too-long pant-legs sweeping across the wooden floor. His dark hair was messed with the morning, resignation weighing down his shoulders.

The look he was giving Victor, his usually smiling lips turned down and frustration swimming in his brown eyes, could only be classified as broken.

“W-… what do you mean?” Victor’s voice shook.

“I just can’t. I’ve had it, Victor, I can’t watch you do this anymore!”

“You said it didn’t bother you. That it was fine…”

“I lied.” There was no hesitation in Yuuri’s voice or his movements as he strode up to Victor. “I hate it. I hate everything about this.”

Victor stood back as Yuuri grabbed the bowl on the counter, casting Victor a glare as he snatched the container of milk from the Russian’s hands. “You put the cereal in the bowl first, and then the milk!”

~~~~~~~

_Line: "I thought you loved me"_

“I thought you loved me.” The words fell like razors from Victor’s lips, cutting deep, betrayal carved across his face.

“I do, Victor, I swear… it’s not what it looks like.” Yuuri stood in the middle of their bedroom, rigid. He hadn’t expected Victor to find it. He was never supposed to see it.

“How could you lie to me like this, Yuuri? This whole time? Straight to my face and in my own home?”

Yuuri made to take a step forward, reaching for Victor, who jerked away. “I couldn’t… Please understand.”

“You told me you threw it away! You swore to me, Yuuri!” Victor held up the striped baby blue tie, shaking it and looking at it with disgust as if it caused him personal offense.

“Is-…. is it really that bad?”

“Yes!”

With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, Yuuri nodded. “Fine then. Go cut it up and burn it if it means that much to you.”

Suddenly smiling, Victor kissed Yuuri’s cheek and bounced out of the room to go do exactly that.

~~~~~~~

_Line: "I love him more than you."_

“That’s not fair, Makka, I wanted to sit in Yuuri’s lap,” Victor whined when he walked up to the sofa and saw that the prime real-estate of said Yuuri’s lap was taken up completely by a mass of poodle.

“First come, first serve,” Yuuri replied with a shrug, stroking his fingers through Makkachin’s fur.

Victor frowned. He wanted those fingers running through his hair. “But I’m your husband. Don’t I get priority seating?”

“Are you calling yourself old?”

“So cruel, darling, what did I do to deserve such treatment?” With a dramatic sigh, Victor flopped down on the other end of the sofa, before very gently and carefully nudging his toes against Makkachin’s hip in hopes of coaxing the poodle off their favorite relaxing spot.

Yuuri noticed and promptly swatted Victor’s foot away from the poodle. “Makka didn’t drive me to the brink of insanity at practice. Today, I love him more than you.”

Pouting, Victor resigned himself to his fate. Fair point, after all.

~~~~~~~

_Line: "I'm sorry, Victor. I have to break up with you."_

“I"m sorry, Victor, I have to break up with you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“This is the fifth time this week you’ve promised you’d do the dishes and you still haven’t. We’re breaking up.”

Victor looked at the sink half-filled with dirty dishes, and then at Yuuri. Yuuri with his teasing smile, with his sweatpants hanging low on his hips, comfortably draped in one of Victor’s tshirts. Delectable. “How about if you do the dishes while I do you?” he offered instead.

Pink spread across Yuuri’s cheeks and he averted his gaze, then reached over to take the dish washing gloves for himself.

~~~~~~~

_Line: "Let's end this"_

“Let’s end this.” Victor’s voice cut across the ice, which pressed cold and hard into Yuuri’s knees.

The Japanese pushed himself up from his fall with a sigh and skated over to his coach. “Sorry, today’s just–”

Victor cut off his apology with a kiss to his temple. “It’s fine. We’ve been here long enough, I don’t want you hurting yourself. Let’s go home.”

Humming his agreement, Yuuri nuzzled his face into Victor’s collar, relieved when Victor’s arms wound tight around him and simply held on until Yuuri’s racing heart quieted.

~~~~~~~

_Line: "How could you do this to me?"_

“How could you do this to me? You said we were going out for lunch.”

“We are going out for lunch,” Phichit chirped, grabbing Yuuri’s hands to pull him toward the shop front. “After we’re done here.”

“Don’t lie to us, Yuuri, we’ve all seen your tie-pulling and skate-kissing,” Chris laughed behind him, pushing on Yuuri’s back to help the Thai man move Yuuri along. “And that’s in public.”

“You didn’t have to trick me though… If you told me the truth I would have come.” He confessed under his breath, blush staining his face as he let his two delighted friends guide him into a toy and lingerie store.

~~~~~~~

_Line: And then he died_

“I’m home!” Victor called out, shutting the front door with the heel of his foot. The apartment seemed strangely quiet for a moment, lights dimmed low. His fiance and dog were nowhere in sight.

As he hung his coat, his phone chimed, lighting up with a message from Yuuri. _Bedroom._

Curiousity and blood pressure increasing, Victor strode across the apartment, low and sultry music spilling out from underneath the bedroom door. He opened it slowly, and then died.

Because heaven was the only explanation for being greeted by the sight of Yuuri sprawled across their bed, illuminated only by flickering candelight, stockings and white lace licking up his gorgeous legs to a garter belt that was already begging to be torn off by Victor’s teeth.

“Welcome home.”

~~~~~~~

_Line: It's not you, it's me_

“It’s not you, it’s me.”

“Then get it,” Yuuri whined, tossing his own phone off to the side and burying his face into a pillow.

“Sorry, I forgot to switch it off,” Victor hastily quieted the blaring alarm. The sky outside the window was still dark.

“I hate you,” Yuuri muttered and Victor laughed, touching a kiss to the center of Yuuri’s shoulderblades. “What kind of idiot forgets to turn off the alarm on a day off?”

“Your idiot,” Victor replied, smiling when Yuuri peeked up from the pillow, regarding him through half-lidded and sleep-filled eyes.

“My idiot owes me breakfast to make up for it then,” Yuuri replied, sliding a hand across the bedsheets in search of Victor’s.

“Right now?”

“In a few hours,” Yuuri yawned and tugged Victor back down, snuggling into his fiance’s side, quickly falling back asleep.

~~~~~~~

_Line: I have terminal illness_

“I think I have a terminal illness,” Victor sighed, leaning against the rink wall, phone in his hands as rewatched the video of Yuuri Katsuki skating his routine for close to the hundredth time.

“Cancer?” Yuri Plisetsky snapped from beside him, scoffing at the sheer fondess overtaking Victor’s expression. “You still on about drunken banquet boy? Just because he skated your program?”

“It’s love sickness,” Victor mused, no other explanation for the warmth expanding in his chest each time that Yuuri made music with his movements alone, calling out to Victor, undoubtedly beckoning for his response. “And there’s only one cure…”

“Please don’t tell me.”

“I need a heavy dose of Yuuri Katsuki.”

~~~~~~~

_Line: "I'm disappointed in you "_

“I’m disappointed in you.” Yuuri smiled, hands splayed across Victor’s bare chest, smiling down at his partner.

Groaning, Victor turned his head to the side in shame. “You spent all of dinner teasing me, are you really that surprised?”

Worlds was quickly approaching, and they both been far too busy and far too tired over the past few weeks to do anything other than sleep once they crawled into bed at the end of the day.

“You came easier than Chris does on the ice,” Yuuri teased and then yelped with laughter when Victor seized him around the waist and flipped them over, shutting him up with a hard kiss and strong hands pushing his thighs apart once more.

~~~~~~~

_Line: "This is the last straw. I'm leaving. I'm never coming back."_

“This is the last straw. I’m leaving! I’m never coming back!” Yurio cried and slammed the apartment door shut with excessive force.

The couple on the sofa broke into giggles. “Think we teased him too much about Otabek this time?” Yuuri asked, but the brilliant smile didn’t fade from his lips.

“He’ll get over it. Plus, I’ve been waiting to chase him out for hours,” Victor said and pulled Yuuri in by the loops of his jeans.

~~~~~~~

_Line: He'll never skate again_

“He’ll never skate again!” Victor cried dramatically as they left the vet’s office, Makkachin wobbling along between him and Yuuri.

The poodle’s front left paw wrapped in a bandage to hold it steady from the simple sprain Makkachin had gotten, jumping off the bed with a bit too much excitement that morning upon hearing Yuuri shout the word, “Breakfast!”

~~~~~~~

_Line: "Please don't leave me"_

“Victor, don’t go…” Yuuri begged, clinging to the sleeve of Victor’s shirt, stretching it out as he pulled.

“I’m going to grab the medicine and be right back, I promise. Stay in bed.”

Yuuri whined, eyes wide and a bit watery, tugging right on Victor’s heart-strings. “Please don’t leave me…”

“All right, five minutes, but then you’re drinking that medicine and getting in bed,” Victor said and sat back down next to Yuuri, who was bundled in blankets on their couch.

Yuuri’s skin was flushed and warm to the touch, but his fever was not as high as it had been the morning. He climbed into Victor’s lap and settled there, enveloped by the comfort of blankets and Victor’s embrace.

~~~~~~~

_Line: "Maybe I was never enough, no matter the effort. I see that now, I was just lying to myself and fooled you in the process."_

“Maybe I was never enough, no matter the effort. I see that now, I was just lying to myself and fooled you in the process… I’m sorry, Yuuri. I’ve led you astray.”

Everyone at the table groaned and Mila shoved the deck of cards into Victor’s hands. 

“If you’re going to be such a drama queen everytime you lose, we’re going to start calling you _durak_ permanently,” she said as Victor continued to weep apologies onto Yuuri.

“Where’d you even learn to play?” Georgi questioned as Victor reluctantly shuffled the deck, deep in regret about boasting to Yuuri how he had never lost a round of the game before they had started.

“There was a Russian exchange student who lived in the same dorm as me and Phichit in Detroit,” Yuuri answered. “He taught us.”

“My whole relationship is based on a lie. I thought I was the first Russian man in your life,” Victor mused sadly, dealing out cards to the table.

“You are,” Yuuri reassured, patting Victor on the shoulder as if he had not obliterated the entire Russian team in the last five rounds of the game.

“Am I though? How much can you love me when you sit here, smile wide on your face, as you make me out to be a fool over and over again?”

“Quit the melodrama, Victor,” Yurio snapped, sorting his new hand with a scowl, clearly unhappy with what he had been dealt. “We’ve all seen photos of Katsudon’s bedroom. You were definitely the first man in his life.”

Yuuri choked on the tea he’d been sipping while Victor lit up and proceeded to win his first round of the night.

(*durak, Russian card game, also means “idiot/fool”)

~~~~~~~

_Line: "I hate you Victor, really and truly. I can't be in a relationship with you anymore", Yuuri said, tears of unhappiness sliding down his face._

_“I hate you Victor, really and truly. I can’t be in a relationship with you anymore,” Yuuri said, tears of unhappiness sliding down his face._

_“Yuuri, my sunshine, my gold, please forgive me!” Victor cried, grabbing for his husband who shoved him away, strongly._

_“No Victor! I’ve forgiven you too many times!” Yuuri answered and pulled the golden band off his hand, dramatically. Victor gasped. “Forgetting to pick up Makkachin at the dog salon, I should have known then! I could forgive the alcohol, and the gambling, you sleeping with Chris because you let me watch, but… JJ? I thought you had better standards than that.”_

“–Wait, it was JJ?!” Victor cut off Phichit’s over-the-top reading.

“I told you it was JJ, you didn’t believe me!” Yuuri finally laughed into the couch cushion he’d been biting to keep from bursting into hysterical giggles for the past fifteen minutes.

“How unoriginal, all the North American references, I totally thought they were going to go Leo,” Victor clicked his tongue in disappointment.

“You’re expecting badfic to be original?” Phichit questioned, skimming down the rest of the lines on his phone. “You want me to keep going?”

“Do we kiss and make up?” Victor questioned, leaning over to try to catch a glimpse of the fanfiction piece Phichit had been reading out loud. On the nearby table, several bottles of various alcohol mixed with assorted glasses, some still half-filled and others drained.

“Ummm, not in this chapter. Has Yuuri running out and slamming the door while you fall to your knees screaming, ‘Nooooooooooooooooo~’” Phichit summarized, “With a tilde and all that at the end. But there’s a Yuuri Katsuki/JJ Leroy/Victor Nikiforov and a Victor Sandwich tag at the top so I’m guessing the three of you work things out.”

“A wha– Unsubscribe!” Victor scrambled to grab Phichit’s phone, while Yuuri fell over in a fit of giggles.

“Oh my god Phichit, no don’t unsubscribe, read it, read it, read it!”


	2. The Kiss Game: Like a Fairytale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompts for guessing how The Kiss™ in [Like a Fairytale](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9373529) (Cinderella AU) would go

_Guess: Viktor sweeps in on his horse and scoops Yuuri up and they make out as they ride into the sunset_

It had been weeks. Months. Seasons. Decades. Eons.

Stars had died since Yuuri had last seen his prince, after he had run off from the palace (Phichit’s voice screamed inside his head _“it’s only been three minutes, stop exaggerating!!!”)_

But, awaking beside the perfect beauty that was the prince had been too much. Sharing a bed with royalty, seeing how the silver of Victor’s eyelashes swept across the tops of his cheekbones, his full lips parted and teasing Yuuri with a kiss that he really should not have. It was too much to take in all at once. So Yuuri had fled.

He had barely gotten down to the palace gates, pushing them open with demonstrative drama, tears pooling in his eyes. He would leave, depart for the Kingdom of Iglesia where he could hide and never have to be tempted by Prince Victor again… His beloved prince… Goodby–

“Yuuri!”

His path was cut off by a galloping white stallion, atop which rode Prince Victor in all his fairytale glory.

“You’ve really gotta stop running off on me!” the prince declared, gazing down lovingly at Yuuri, whose eyes filled with tears (again). “Do you not love me?!”

“I love you too much, my prince!”

“Then stay with me! Let us wed and have a hundred kids together!” Victor held a hand out to Yuuri.

“We can’t have kids,” Yuuri pointed out, sad that there was yet another thing he could not give his prince.

Victor would have none of it. “Then we’ll adopt Yurio!”

“Who’s Yurio?” Yuuri questioned, confused.

“My brother!“

“Why did you call him Yurio?”

“Because– no matter! Just take my hand and let us ride into the sunset together!” Victor flipped his silver bangs, and his horse flipped its mane because it was just as extra™ as its owner.

All worry lost, Yuuri grabbed Victor’s hand. The prince lifted him up, and set Yuuri into his lap, arms tight around his waist as they finally kissed gently and rode off into the sunset together (figuratively speaking as it was still morning).

~~~~~~~

_Guess: Yuuri is carrying things with both hands and telling Victor to pick up something by pointing with his lips (puckering them in the direction of said object) but Victor thinks Yuuri is asking for a kiss instead and thus proceeds to do as such._

Yuuri had a large jug full of maple syrup in one hand, and a container filled with flour cradled in the elbow of the other. He blinked as he looked up at the whisk hanging before him, that he simply could not grab it as he was now but he was so eager to get started…

“Need help?” Victor paused at his side, chuckling in amusement at Yuuri’s face of concentration.

“Ah yes!” Yuuri wanted to gesture up to the tool that he needed, but unable to. “Can you–” Doing the next time that came to mind, he puckered his lips in the direction of the hanging whisk, like Mila sometimes did. But before he had a chance to finish his request, Victor had kissed him.

Kissed him.

On the lips.

Light and sweet and quick.

“What was that?!” Yuuri exclaimed, very nearly dropping what he had been gripping onto. “Did you…. did you just…”

“Kiss you?” Victor blinked, in surprise and confusion. “Yes? I thought you were asking for a kiss?”

Yuuri’s face was the reddest shade imaginable. “No, I was asking for–” He stopped and turned, setting down the flour and maple syrup. Then he spun back around and grabbed the prince’s collar, crashing their lips together.

~~~~~~~

_Guess: something small happens that makes them overflow with love somehow, and they just go for it. It's just a peck, sweet and short. Two moments later, they are tangled in an embrace, making out._

Victor was devastated. Yuuri was gone. Again. GONE! For the fourth ducking time! 

Makkachin huffed from the foot of the bed, looking up at his owner with big dark eyes as if in sympathy.

What had Victor done wrong… It was bringing up the possibility of marriage, wasn’t it? It was too much. He had scared Yuuri off. They had met so few times, and Yuuri could not even remember the moment that Victor had fallen so hard for him.

Pushing himself off the mattress, Victor sat up and hung his legs off the edge of the bed, the floor feeling cold beneath his feet. Cold like the ache in his chest, the constriction in his lungs, knowing Yuuri was gone yet again, off without a trace like so many times before, ripping out Victor’s heart and taking it with him.

His beautiful, perfect Yuuri, gone, like–

The door to Victor’s bedroom opened.

And there he was.

Blue-framed glasses perched on his nose, hair still messy from sleep, his clothes from yesterday rumpled beyond belief and the faintest flushing his cheeks when his eyes landed on Victor. 

“Oh, you’re awake… I’m sorry, I woke up and realized my family might be worried, so sent off a letter with one of your couriers, if that’s okay…”

Victor sat in disbelief, stunned beyond reaction as Yuuri shuffled back into the room and then climbed back into the bed, tugging on Victor’s hand. “I thought I’d come back before you woke up.” He spoke softly, looking up through thick lashes, shy smile playing on his mouth and his blush darkening. “…I’ve dreamed about waking up with you for so long, but I never realized just how perfect it would actually be.”

Something inside Victor snapped. Knowing Yuuri had the same dreams, hadn’t left him. Instead was right there, in Victor’s room, in his bed, as delicate and beautiful as always. He couldn’t wait any longer.

Without thinking, Victor swooped in and pecked Yuuri’s lips, “Good morning, my Yuuri.”

Quietly, slowly, Yuuri touched his own lips, and then Victor’s skin matched the same shade of pink as Yuuri’s. But he hardly had time to think any further, because Yuuri was tugging him back in, finally, finally claiming Victor’s lips in a proper kiss. “Good morning, my prince,” he whispered into it….

(Two moments later, they were tangled in an embrace, making out. Makkachin huffed again and jumped off the bed, giving the two some much needed space.)

~~~~~~~

_Guess: So is The Kiss™ going to be like the most non kiss ever, where they're just casually talking or something and Yurio bumps into them and Yuuri *happens* to fall face first onto Victor's mouth? Or even worse... Like if they're actually about to kiss and Yurio goes "Oi, Creme Puff" and Yuuri whips around and accidentally kisses Yurio instead._

The palace kitchens wafted with the fragrant smell of… burning bread.

“I-… I should get that…” Yuuri said, quietly, not moving, too lost in the blue of his blue-eyed prince’s blue eyes (they were so, so blue).

“Wouldn’t you rather kiss me?” the prince asked, so forward, a finger hooked under Yuuri’s chin as he looked down into Yuuri’s brown eyes. Like chocolate. Like good quality chocolate. Like the kind you always gaze longingly at in really expensive catalogue’s around Valentine’s Day and think maybe someone will get those for me (they don’t). Like that kind. Definitely not Hershey’s.

“I-….” Yuuri hesitated and then licked his lips, because he’d be damned if the prince made some kind of comment about them being chapped afterwards. “Yes.” And Yuuri tipped up on his toes so he might finally claim that kiss, so close he could almost taste it–

“Oi, cream puff, your shit’s burning!”

Yuuri wheeled around, sudden and in shock at the outburst beside them, not realizing just how close the younger prince was to them.

Too close, it proved, because instead of tasting his prince’s lips, Yuuri then smacked into and tasted Yurio’s.

~~~~~~~

_Guess: They're running across a sunlit field. Slow motion. The music swells. But then Yuuri trips, right onto Viktor's face. The triplets had tripped him because Phichit was Done™ with the suspense._

They ran across a sunlit field, towards each other, time seeming to slow with each footfall. Wildflowers danced in the breeze, bowing low and then reaching towards the sky as if waving in encouragement.

Yuuri had waited too long to see his prince, who had been gone for weeks making his visits to the outer regions of the kingdom (the baker was dearly beginning to regret that request).

And the prince had longed to return straight into the strong arms of his baker (because who knew that kneading dough daily could give you biceps like that, damn).

Both wanted nothing more than to embrace, full of love and gentleness amongst the flowers of the field, to hold each other tight and warm, in the same way of which they had written to each other in their letters.

They neared, a breath away from touching, and Yuuri’s foot snagged on something.

He fell. Not into the prince’s arms, but onto the prince, clumsy and heavy, knocking them both down to unceremoniously smash flowers underneath.

Much like in the way Yuuri’s face nearly smashed into Victor’s. Yuuri managed to save himself from potential pain by bracing his hands against Victor’s shoulder.

Except his lips braced against Victor’s, their first kiss stolen by the fall.

Yuuri blinked, wide-eyed, in near horror, mouth pressed firm against Victor’s. The prince’s all-too-close expression also twisted in shock, but only for a moment. Because he then threw his arms around Yuuri and proceeded to kiss him breathless amongst the colors of the wildflowers.

“Fucking FINALLY!” Phichit exclaimed, bursting into existence to high-five the triplets that crouched hidden amongst the flowers waving in celebration.

They grinned cheekily, and wound up the rope they’d pulled across the ground to trip Yuuri.

“Eleven fucking chapters of tooth-rotting fluff and no kiss, I was so done with this shit,” Phichit grumbled and then snatched the license which burst forth from the air in a spectacular explosion of glitter.

~~~~~~~

_Guess: The two of them just get inside a freaking time matchine or the Tardis or whatever and go back to the freaking ball and have the garden make out session they deserved because THAT was THE moment_

It was years later. Decades. Victor’s hair actually had turned grey and not silver. “Yuuri…”

The baker, whose once youthful skin bore wrinkles now and whose dark hair was peppered with white, turned to look at his king. “Yes, darling?”

“I really wished I had kissed you at the ball. I still think about it. Not to say our first kiss wasn’t perfect, it was but… I could never kiss you enough and kissing you there in the gardens in the only thing that could make that memory more perfect.”

Yuuri hummed in consideration. “…We could…”

Victor snapped to face Yuuri so quickly his elderly spine sounded off a series of cracks. He winced. “What?!”

There was a smirk on his baker’s lips and a twinkle in his eyes. “Phichit,” Yuuri whispered.

Old King Victor nearly had a heart-attack when a cloud of glitter burst into the air and a handsome dark-skinned man clad in sparkling white and blue appeared. “You rang?”

Yuuri laughed. “Phichit, you’re still young!”

Victor was still getting over a possible heart attack.

“Well, yeah, duh, I’m a fairy,” Phichit rolled his eyes as if it were obvious. “I’m not gonna let myself get old and wrinkly like you guys. What’s up, Yuuri?”

“I don’t know if you can do this but–”

“Send you back to the ball so you guys can make out?” Phichit asked knowingly. “Ummm, kinda. You gotta push yourselves together though. Like, literally. Have fun!”

And that was all the warning they got before they were enveloped in a cloud of glitter and transported back to the ball.

“Huh, that actually worked,” Yuuri mused as Victor tried to process what was happening. Because suddenly it was night. And they weren’t at their vacation home on the beach in the kingdom of Giacometti. They were back at the palace, in the gardens. And music flowed from the halls inside. “Look!”

Just ahead, Victor saw…. himself. And Yuuri. Much, much younger, in their ball attire from so many years ago, standing in each other’s arms, gazing as lovingly at one another as they still did every day, but looking so lost in the feelings of young, new love.

Victor looked at himself and thought, Wow… I WAS hot. And Yuuri’s tush looked particularly banging. How had he not paid attention to that detail at the ball back then? What a regrettable thing to notice just now.

“Come on, it’s almost midnight!” Yuuri hissed, grabbing his king’s hand, seeming oddly at ease as he indicated Victor to not make noise as they snuck toward their younger selves, who were too busy staring at each other in wonder to notice the two elderly versions of themselves.

Slowly… slowly… partially for stealth and quiet, and partially because their old bones could not really move much faster than that.

Yuuri snuck up behind himself and Victor behind… young Victor. Then, indicating an unspoken signal, they shoved their younger selves together, into a kiss as Yuuri cried out, “You end up together so make out already!!”

And the two old men shuffled off cackling wildly, holding hands, into another puff of glitter.

~

Victor awoke with a start and sat up straight in bed, looking at his side to see his aging Yuuri dozing peacefully beside him. Not quite wrinkled, but perhaps getting there… Still beautiful in middle-age, and would remain so no matter how many years would pass, Victor was sure of it.

Victor settled back down beside Yuuri, closing his eyes, and tried to conjure the dream back up so he could figure out if he had been balding or not.

~~~~~~~

_Yuuri gets frustrated to the point he's says "screw it", pulls Victor down by the front of his shirt. But they end up bumping teeth/noses, laugh and agree that THAT does not count and they do a do-over. But they can't figure out which way their heads go, they ask each other questions like do we close our eyes? how do we breathe?? They are both clueless and clumsy but jittery with excitement and happiness. When they finally get it right they are just laughing at their own silliness._

Screw it. Yuuri decided and yanked Victor in by the front of his shirt. He had had enough with the tense moments, all the build-ups which faded into nothing, seemingly perfect moments cut off by any little excuse not to.

He was going to kiss his prince. Throw caution to the wind and off a cliff, and that it for himself.

That didn’t stop his nerves from shaking and having him miss Victor’s lips almost completely, planting a haphazard of one to half of the prince’s mouth.

A beat passed.

“Yuuri, did you just–”

“No, that didn’t count!” Yuuri protested, almost in panic. “That-… that wasn’t…. Let me try again.”

Victor tilted his head and tried to swoop in for another, but Yuuri squeaked in surprise and ducked out from it out of instinct. The prince’s kiss brushed over the tip of his nose instead.

Victor groaned as Yuuri blinked. “That didn’t count either then.”

Yuuri had to bite back the amusement and jitters threatening to spill through. “Umm, should we… I don’t know…”

“Try again?”

“Yeah definitely.”

Another two false starts and Yuuri huffed in frustration, grabbing gentle hold of Victor’s face. Determination flashed through his eyes and he leaned up, telling the prince to hold still before firmly pressing their lips together.

They both ended up laughing into it.

~~~~~~~

_Guess:My personal guess for The Kiss™ is a callback to canon. Something public, unexpected and extra. Dunno how you'd get to it, but that's what I think. Or Phichit ends up mentally screaming "just kiss already" and/or pushes them. Or, a guess number three, they go on a walk with Makka and he wraps them together with a leash._

“A leash?” the prince asked, doubt in his voice as he watched Yuuri latch a collar around Makkachin’s neck.

“Yeah, you’ve never used one before?” Yuuri said, ruffling at Makkachin’s fur. Both the prince and the poodle looked a little lost when Yuuri held out the leash for Victor.

“Why would I?”

Yuuri opened his mouth to respond and then closed it. Just when he allowed himself to let go of the thought that Victor was a prince, the reminders came back in full force. “If you want to take him into the city, you need to take it.” Yuuri really did not want to be put in the position of chasing a poodle and a prince around the capital.

Graciously, Victor listened and tugged expertimentally on Makkachin’s new leash and collar. The dog pulled back and huffed, lifting a paw to to try to scratch at the pressure around his neck. “Yuuri says we have to, listen!” Victor scolded and tried again, only to have Makkachin bark and dart off.

With a yelp, Victor stumbled forward, nearly tripping. Yuuri reacted quickly, grabbing onto both the leash to halt Makkachin and onto his prince, to keep Victor from falling. He laughed when the poodle looped around them, entangling their legs in the leash. Before Yuuri had a chance to reach down to fix it or step out, Makkachin jerked at the least and thus the two even closer together, before managing to dip his head and pull at the right angle so that the collar slipped off. With a happy bark, the poodle bounded off through the palace halls, happy with his newfound freedom.

Still laughing at himself for ever wondering why he thought Makkachin might be more reasonable than his owner, Yuuri glanced up to find himself in very close proximity to Victor. And the prince seemed to have noticed the same, eyes overtaken by the usual glimmer with which he always seemed to regard Yuuri.

Then suddenly, Yuuri became aware of all the little details, their legs tangled up in the least, bodies pressed close, Yuuri’s hand on Victor’s chest, and the prince’s fingers curling over the curve of Yuuri’s waist. Silver bangs, blue eyes, small smile, blush over the bridge of his nose.

Then one more little detail.

Victor’s lips on his.


	3. Boybands And Bad Jokes: Assorted Prompts

_prompt: boyband au. do with that what u will_

“Oh my god. Ohmygod. _Ohmygaaaawd.”_

“Honey, I don’t think God is listening to your fanboying.” Chris teased as he and Victor made their way through the line of VIP ticket holders.

“Do you SEE him though?” Victor hissed, standing up on the balls of his feet to get a clearer look at the boy band members at the front who were greeting the fans who had paid (a lot) extra. Smiles. Hand shakes. Hugs. “He’s gorgeous.”

“Just don’t pass out. I am not catching you,” Chris replied, stepping forward with the crowd. When they reached the red velvet rope separating the fans from the band members, both the Swiss and Russian smiled at the security guard holding the line.

“Are you guys for real?” the buff American asked, rolling his eyes.

“Yes!” Victor replied excitedly.

“I’m just here to make sure he doesn’t do anything super embarrassing,” Chris stated.

The security guard gave Chris a look of pity and unclipped the rope. “He’s not going to be happy about this, Victor.”

“Don’t care, it’s a new tour and that means a new t-shirt!” Victor dashed toward the table behind which the boy band members stood, skipping straight past the Canadian member to make a beeline for the Japanese. “Yuuri, sign my shirt!”

With a heavy sigh, Yuuri picked up the silver sharpie on the table, signing his autograph without a word across his fan’s chest. Victor was visibly giddy. “Thank you!”

The Thai member next to Yuuri chortled.

“Victor, those tickets are for fans,” Yuuri stated flatly as he drew back.

“But I am a fan!”

“Ask me at home…. Or did you forget we’re married?”

~~~~~~~

_prompt: Victor sees Yuuri struggling to read the newspaper one day in St. Petersburg and decides to help._

Lips set in a thin line of concentration, Yuuri huffed out frustration and picked up his phone again to double-check the Cyrillic characters because he was pretty certain the article he was trying to read was not describing how a dog had been elected mayor somewhere in the States. He glanced back at the section title. Politics. So at least he had that partially correct.

“Hey cutie, you look upset.”

Yuuri tilted his head, against the back of the sofa in their shared apartment. “What’s that say?”

Victor leaned over his shoulder to get a closer look at the text on the page and chuckled, “Says a town in California now has a poodle as an elected official.”

Yuuri groaned, “Why?”

“I don’t know, ask the Americans.”

“No, why is this in here?” Just when Yuuri thought he was starting to develop a decent understanding of the language, the world decided to cruelly mock his self-doubts by inserting ridiculous articles into official newspapers.

“Well, it is politics,” Victor laughed and plucked Yuuri’s phone from his hand. “And a Russian paper will never miss a chance to point out how ridiculous those stateside can be.”

Yuuri glanced back at the article, which now made much more sense at the same time that it made much less sense. “What are you Googling?”

“That town.” Victor responded and showed Yuuri another article written online, in English, with a photo of said dog. A white toy poodle wearing sunglasses and an American flag bandana.  
Yuuri scoffed out a laugh. Victor looked delighted.

“Looks like we’ve found our vacation destination for the fall!” the Russian then paused. “…Do you think if I gave her a biscuit it’d be considered a bribe?”

~~~~~~~

_prompt: viktor and yuuri as actors with conflicting styles and interpretations of shakespeare._

Victor leapt onto the stage of the open and, at the moment, empty amphitheater, throwing his arms up to the summer sky. “To be, or not to be!” he cried out to no one in particular, “that is the question!” Glancing over his shoulder at his co-star approaching down the aisle, he spun around, holding his arms out wide in invitation for the dark-haired actor to join him in his dramatized rendition. “Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer–”

“I’m suffering now,” Yuuri called up, rubbing the bridge of his nose. It was far too early in the morning for him to be amused by his costar’s antics. “The question for you should be, to act or not to act, with the answer being a solid no.”

Flipping his silver bangs in response, back of Victor’s hand flew to his forehead as he tipped his head back and feigned insult. “Alas poor Yuuri, I thought I knew you.”

“Please stop butchering Hamlet.”

Victor gasped dramatically. “You said it! What, will the line stretch out to th’ crack of doom?!”

Yuuri blinked slowly in response. “I think you’re getting Hamlet mixed with Macbeth.”

“Stop trying to curse us, Yuuri!”

“We’re performing Rent!!!”

~~~~~~~

_prompt: Yurio walks in on Yuuri and Victor in a compromising position._

Yurio’s eyes were bugging out of his skull like a pug’s. Or some cat’s. Probably some internet famous cat that he followed on Instagram but the username escaped him at the moment. He would have to look it up properly after this because it was downright disrespectful of him not to recall said cute cat’s name.

“What the hell?!”

Victor and Yuuri were on the floor at the center of their living room. Together. Entwined. The coffee table that normally sat there had been pushed out of the way to make room for… for… for whatever that was.

“Yurio! Come join us!” Victor panted, out of breath. He was on all fours. And not in the regular way. The other way. Palms and feet planted flat against the mat beneath him and his fiance, back arched off the floor like a plank, chest toward the ceiling.

Or more accurately toward Yuuri. Who was on top of him. Above him? Yurio wasn’t quite sure. He was not sure if he wanted to be sure.

The blond could see that Yuuri had one of his legs positioned between Victor’s upper thighs, the other slung across Victor’s hips. The Japanese had his arms positioned at either side of Victor’s head and he smiled radiantly over at Yurio despite the flush vivid across his cheeks.

“It’s fun! Good exercise. Keeps you limber.”

Against all better judgment, Yurio took a step forward, not able to tear his eyes away from the tangle of limbs. “…I don’t understand,” he muttered. “Why did you ask me to come over?”

“It’s way more fun with three people!” Victor replied and risked removing a hand from the mat to fling a cardboard square with an arrow on it to the teenager.

“….Is my misery a game to you?”

“Yeah, it’s called Twister!”

~~~~~~~

_prompt: yuuri eavesdrops on victor pep talking to himself to the bathroom mirror_

“All right, Victor, this will be fine. It’s been a while but you’re still the star of Russia. Living legend. You have so many gold medals you’ve lost count. What’s one more? Yeah it’s been a year but so what. That year has been incredible. You’re still fit. You’re still a stunner. Everyone else is still going to quake in their skates the moment you walk in.”

Yuuri leaned against the wall adjacent to the bathroom door of their hotel room, smiling as he overheard Victor talking to himself in the mirror. The Russian had denied being nervous, but Yuuri could hardly blame him. It would be his first time back on the ice competitively since he left to coach Yuuri.

“Who is your competition? No one. You’re still the best. You can skate your routine blind folded. You’ll take back your records today. You’ve never been nervous before. There’s nothing that can possibly trip you up…” There was a pause. “…Just don’t think about how perfect your fiancé’s ass looked in bed this morning while you’re out there.”

“VICTOR!”

~~~~~~~

_prompt: Fingernail painting and pillow fights_

“Is that even her color?” Yuuri smiled as he sat down cross-legged on the couch, watching Victor who was on the floor with Makkachin.

“Of course it is. It matches the car.”

Laughing, Yuuri lifted a steaming mug of tea to his lips, sipping at it. He watched Victor carefully handle Makkachin’s paws, painting the nails on the front ones hot pink. “I hope that stuff is non-toxic.”

“It’s made for dogs,” Victor replied and held up the tiny lacquer bottle. “Pawdicure Polish.”

Yuuri chuckled into his cup. “Where’d you find it?”

“Mila brought it. Said Seung-gil recommended it.”

“He paints his husky’s nails?” Yuuri questioned dubiously.

“You really should open up Instagram more often, love. You’d be surprised. Plus you can see the leagues of adoring fans which leave such thirsty comments on my pictures of you. _katsukifan2016 commented, Oh I’d love to eat myself some katsuki-don all night too.”_

The rest of Victor’s teasing commentary was cut off by a couch cushion to the face.

~~~~~~~

_prompt: Yuuri notices that viktor has been very tense lately and the next day when viktor gets home he greets him wearing lingerie and a pole set up (probs from Chris)_

The flush radiating off Yuuri’s cheeks was hot enough that if anyone touched his face now, they would certainly jerk their hand away with a resulting third-degree burn. He kept Victor’s plush and probably ridiculously-expensive robe wrapped as tightly as he possibly could around himself without accidentally tearing it off. Underneath it, with every tiny movement, the subtle rub of the black lace lingerie that did absolutely nothing to conceal the intimate parts of his body screamed at him that this had always been a bad idea.

“I’m never listening to your suggestions ever again,” Yuuri muttered into the phone, eyes flickering with nerves and sheer embarrassment to the living room sofa, where a paramedic was checking Victor out for signs of a concussion.

“Well, to be fair,” Chris’s utterly amused and accented voice rumbled with laughter from the other end of the line, “when I said he’d faint at the sight, I didn’t mean it _literally_.”

~~~~~~~

_prompt: write an entire fic in pun_

“So how’s it _coming_?” Chris’s voice purred through the speaker of Victor’s phone. “Wooed everyone’s one true banquet love yet?”

“He’s like a sex object,” Victor muttered back, burying his face into the bed.

“Oooooooh?”

“Yeah. I try to ask for sex,” Victor explained, voice muffled by the pillow. “And he objects.”


	4. Tumblr Prompt Collabs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three short collabs with the amazing [@crimson-chains](https://crimson-chains.tumblr.com/), artwork linked in end notes.

_Prompt: Glitter dick!_

Victor all but stumbled into their hotel room, laughing and waving enthusiastically to someone in the hallway. He spun on his heels, face alight and quite literally sparkling under the dim lights. “Yuuuuuri!” he boldly declared a split second before shushing himself with a chuckle, in the realization that his voice was a decibel above intended.

Said Yuuuuuri glanced up from bed, adjusting his glasses and setting down his phone, game on it paused. He squeaked, managing to snatch his phone out of the way as Victor collapsed onto the bed, draping himself across his fiancé.

“I can see you had fun,” Yuuri commented with a laugh, swiping a finger across one of Victor’s alcohol-flushed cheeks. It came back glimmering.

Victor mumbled something in Russian as he nuzzled into the back of Yuuri’s neck, littering it with slightly sloppy kisses. “You should have come with us, my love, it’d be waaaay more fun.”

“Would I come back covered in glitter too?” Yuuri asked, glancing down at the white bedsheets, which were now dusted with the sparkles coming off Victor’s skin.

“Chris’s idea!” Victor announced. “He covered me in gold, look!” Sitting up, Victor fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, only managing to get a couple undone before a low whine at his own slow speed signaled to Yuuri that he wanted help.

Still laughing at the sight of his normally very put together fiancé, Yuuri admired the messy silver hair also dusted in tiny gold flecks and the unkempt state of his shirt with the button alignment off—meaning it had already come off at one point during the night. Clubbing with Victor, Chris, and one of the wilder ice dance pairs the night before a ten-hour flight had seemed like a bad idea to Yuuri, and he hardly regretted turning down the invitation. All the more knowing that he would have come back to the room drunk and bathed in glitter.

“Mmmm, Yuuri, hurry up,” Victor complained, teeth finding the lobe of Yuuri’s ear, breath hot and moist against it as he nipped.

Yuuri was finding it hard to _hurry up_ when Victor’s tongue was skating patterns along the shell of his ear. “S-stop that,” he scolded, getting the last button undone with steely determination.

The shirt hit the floor immediately, followed by a cascade of golden glitter that would surely justify a significant tip of apology to the maid. “Someone said I looked like Oscar!” Victor said, gesturing to his chest, which was indeed covered with thick ribbons of glitter. Each shift of his muscles caused an explosion of light to sparkle off his skin. “…Who’s Oscar?”

“Who’s Oscar, I don’t kno–” Yuuri paused in his mental search and started to laugh. “Oh, I think they meant an Oscar! The Academy Award? For movies? Like Best Picture?”

“You bet I’m the fucking best picture,” Victor bragged and then slid back onto the bed, drawing Yuuri’s hands to his chest. “Hey, Yuuri, hey. Do you wanna kiss gold?”

Chuckling, Yuuri nodded and pressed a chaste kiss to Victor’s lips, only to be tackled onto the mattress, caught in one much deeper.

“Oh my god, Victor, you’re getting glitter everywhere,” Yuuri protested, gold now dusting his own skin, spreading as Victor greedily sucked at his throat and pushed up the fabric of Yuuri’s shirt at the same time, hands transferring glitter along the expanse of Yuuri’s abdomen.

“I wanna make you gold and kiss you all over.” Victor palmed between Yuuri’s legs, tearing a gasp from him.

“Okay, okay, I think we need to get you cleaned up.” Best to logic quickly, before he lost the ability to. Yuuri tugged Victor off the bed and into the bathroom, still shedding glitter.

“You can clean me like a cat,” Victor purred against Yuuri’s ear, leaving more hot kiss marks across his jaw, “with your tongue.”

Groaning, Yuuri moved them closer to the shower, hands slipping as he switched on the water. Making certain the temperature was fine was suddenly an impossible task, when Victor was grinding very intentionally against him, hot and hard.

Turning back, Yuuri fumbled with Victor’s belt, unsure for what purpose he wanted to get his fiancé in the shower anymore. After pushing down Victor’s pants and tight black undergarments, Yuuri froze.

Froze, then began to laugh. He bit his lower lip to try to contain it, but it burst forth the second that Victor shifted forward and the bathroom lights reflected off the glitter.

“V-victor, ohmygod, how did you–” Hand up to cover his mouth, Yuuri couldn’t even bring his eyes up to Victor’s face. “How did you get-… you have… ohmygod.” It was hard to breathe.

“I thought you might like to kiss gold.”

If Yuuri laughed any harder, he might have fallen to the floor. “You-… you have glitter all over your dick.”

Absolutely, positively, completely covered in gold glitter.

“D-did you-…” Yuuri couldn’t even get his questions past his gasps for breath, laughing as he tipped up and kissed Victor’s lips. “You thought I’d wanna-… oh god, Vitya, you’re ridiculous.”

“Is that a no?”

“Get in the shower. I don’t know how much you’d enjoy me kissing gold, but maybe I can suck it for you.”

~~~~~~~

_After the new Love Hotel & Instagram chapter I desperately need Yuuri to find his old school uniform while packing his things in preparation to move to Russia_  
(In reference to [#Katsudamn](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10844421))

“W-where did you get that?” Yuuri sputtered upon walking into his bedroom and seeing Victor sitting on his bed.

Except he wasn’t just sitting on Yuuri’s bed.

He was sitting on Yuuri’s bed, wearing the dark, dark blue uniform jacket and pants that Yuuri had not seen in years.

And wearing it exactly like Yuuri had always imagined. Jacket front undone, flaps haphazardly pushed back. White button up shirt just a bit rumpled and nearly coming untucked from his belt line. The knot in the school tie loose and askew. He rested an elbow on a knee, holding his chin in his hand as he smirked over at Yuuri.

Every bit the image of a punkish, popular bad boy that robbed everyone of their hearts and common sense the second he sauntered into a room or down a hallway.

“I might have bribed someone,” Victor replied, smooth and rich like melted chocolate. He pushed off the bed and strode over to Yuuri.

Yuuri was reeling. Not just at three years of high school fantasies come to life, but the fact that Victor looked even hotter than any image Yuuri had ever conjured up. Intensified by ten times over when Victor confidently drove Yuuri back against the bedroom doorframe, planting his hand firm against the wall, pinning Yuuri there under his sharp blue gaze and the abusive amounts of power that uniform was giving him over Yuuri.

Weak-kneed Yuuri. Trembling Yuuri. Already half-hard in his pants Yuuri.

“Is that the right way to do a kabe-don?”

An endless mantra of ohmygodohmygodohmygod hurled itself through Yuuri, and he couldn’t even be sure if it was only mental or if he was actually breathing the words out.  
Screw all logic and restrain, Yuuri wanted nothing more than to be screwed by Victor. With the uniform still on. Right there against the doorframe.

“I-… I, ummm-…” Yes. Very right. The very right way of doing a kabe-don. So right that it was wrong. So wrong. Very wrong. “…Why are you-…” Yuuri couldn’t even finish the question, about a nanosecond away from seizing a hold of that sloppily-knotted tie in order to crash his mouth and body against Victor’s.

“Because you got senpai to notice you.”

And it was at that point that Yuuri utterly broke down into a fit of laughter that lasted approximately ten minutes, and then five more when Victor refused to stop pouting at just how awful Yuuri had found that line and that there was no hope of recovering.

~~~~~~~

_Prompt: Poor, underpaid, overworked Chihoko Pizza Delivery employee has to deal with unreasonably angry Mafia boss Victor. This has happened on many occasions. This time he's had it. He fights back._  
(In reference to crimson-chain's [mafia au](https://crimson-chains.tumblr.com/tagged/mafia+AU))

“For the last time, I don’t know anything about your b–”

“Stop lying to me, you worthless piece of rotten fish. I can see the call log history.”

The sigh at the other end of the line sounded beyond defeat. Victor could nearly taste the sweet, savory success. Generally, Victor did not consider himself to be the jealous type. Yuuri was perfectly entitled to having friends and connections outside their relationship, but something about _Chihoko_ rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe because it was that unlike all of Yuuri’s other friends, Yuuri never brought up Chihoko in conversation. Unlike his journalist friend Phichit or the cadet Minami, who often cropped up when Yuuri was chatting to Victor about his day.

But there was radio silence on Chihoko. And it bugged Victor.

Since the day when Yuuri oh so trustingly handed Victor his phone to show him a few cute photos of puppies during a date that had the both of them melting. And Victor had really not meant to invade Yuuri’s privacy. He was just curious about how exactly Yuuri had saved his name amongst the contacts, only to be flattered to see that he was listed in Yuuri’s speed dial.

Except there was one problem.

This ‘Chihoko’ was ahead of him. And it wasn’t any of Yuuri’s friends, or relatives. Normally Victor wouldn’t have thought anything about it. But next to the name ‘Chihoko’ was a little ‘♡’ symbol. And THAT Victor wasn’t all that okay with. Not when a quick and sneaky (and admittedly very very very guilty) check of Yuuri’s call log showed that he called this 'Chihoko ♡’ every week. Usually quite late in the evening. On days he told Victor he couldn’t meet for a date because he was “working late.”

So maybe, perhaps, it was possible, that Victor got a bit uncharacteristically jealous.

“Look, sir, if you’re not going to order–”

“I’m ordering you to keep your paws off my Yuuri!” Victor snapped, wondering if it would be too dramatic to track 'Chihoko ♡’ down and remind them that swimming with fishes was still as effective a technique as ever, despite it being a bit old fashioned. Probably too dramatic. Besides, Otabek had mentioned being out of town for the weekend…

“If you keep this up, I’m going to call the police–”

“You call him and it’s the last thing you’ll ever do, Chihoko. I will personally ensure it.” Victor growled out his warning, heard a choked-gasp from the other end of the line, and then pressed the 'end call’ button hard enough he could nearly feel the screen crack. He felt oddly satisfied with himself for the rest of the day.

That was until Yuuri called him later, apologizing and saying that he had to work late again and that he would probably not be able to make their scheduled date. The regret in Yuuri’s voice was genuine, but Victor still bristled just a little, until Yuuri continued and asked if Victor still wanted to come over to Yuuri’s place even if it would be later than originally planned, for an eat-in dinner.

Victor’s foot snagged on the carpet as he hastened to reply with a delighted, “Yes, yes, of course!”

“Cool. I don’t think I have anything at home I can cook quickly, would you mind if we ordered a pizza or something? It’s not great but… I thought it’d be nice just to relax on the couch with you and be a bit lazy after how crazy this week has been…”

There might have been another pang of guilt at the center of Victor’s chest, with the knowledge that the reason for Yuuri’s increased amounts of overtime had a direct relationship to the escalation of tension between Victor’s and JJ’s gangs. So of course his answer was, “Anything you want, darling.” He could practically hear the blush spreading across Yuuri’s beautiful face, still getting used to the sweetnames Victor dropped so frequently.

“Okay, ummm, I’ll see you at my place at nine then? Can you order from Chihoko’s Pizzeria? They’re my favorite, and they don’t charge delivery for a large.”

Victor froze. Choked on a bit of air. Shattered into a couple million pieces of embarrassment and then puzzled himself back together. “Uhh, yeah, sure, of course! Not a problem.”  
Turned out to be a big problem.

Victor had to fumble through several dozen excuses and explanations when their Hawaiian arrived at the door with no pineapple, no ham, a sprinkling of cheese in the shape of a sad face, and several servings of anchovies.

Victor never called Chihoko ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. [CC's Glitter Dick art](https://lucycamui.tumblr.com/post/160751359119/prompt-victuri-glitter-dick-you-know-why)
> 
> 2\. [The Kabe-Don](https://lucycamui.tumblr.com/post/160972574878/okay-but-after-the-new-love-hotel-instagram)
> 
> 3\. [Chihoko's Pizza](https://lucycamui.tumblr.com/post/161185067269/prompt-poor-underpaid-overworked-chihoko-pizza)


	5. Like a Fairytale Prompts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some prompts written in celebration of LaF hitting 5k Kudos

_Prompt: Yuuri and Victor deciding on the engraving for their wedding rings_

“Engravings?” Yuuri asked, brows furrowed. Of all the wedding related questions that had come up in the flurry of planning, this was one he had not anticipated. “What do you mean?”

“It’s possible for us to have something engraved inside the rings,” Victor explained, taking hold of Yuuri’s hand. The pad of his forefinger traced around the base of Yuuri’s ring finger, where the wedding band would sit in only a few week’s time. It felt unfairly far away. “Something significant to both of us? Words or an image?”

“Oh,” Yuuri said, watching Victor lace their fingers together. His fiance’s gentle smile reassured the flutter of nerves which sprang from the question. “I-.. ummm, a swan?” he laughed, unsure of the suggestion.

Victor’s smile lit up the room brighter than the chandeliers overhead. “Wait here a moment.” He kissed Yuuri’s knuckles before he left, gone for only a couple of minutes before he returned, paper and a charcoal pencil in hand.

Yuuri watched as Victor drew a pair of rings, his artistic talent reminding Yuuri fondly of all the sketches Victor drew on his letters. All the envelopes were tucked neatly away in ones of the drawers in their bedroom, having been the first things Yuuri had brought with him once it became clear that the palace would be his new home.

Inside the sketched rings, Victor drew rose vines. At the center of one, he positioned a swan so it faced the outside of the ring, neck craned, beak touching the edge. Yuuri’s heart skipped as he realized what Victor intended as he drew the second, inside the ring meant for Yuuri. “How about like this? So when we put the rings together…”

Set together, the necks of the swans formed a heart amongst the bed of roses. Yuuri’s voice got snagged in his throat, which tightened as his vision blurred slightly from the love washing through him. He leaned against Victor’s side and nodded, tracing his own touch over Victor’s ring finger.

“I love it so much.”

~~~~~~~

_Prompt: Yuuri and Victor bond in the kitchen over making another set of mini choux and chantilly swans in the middle of the night._

“Shhh, don’t be so loud, you’ll wake someone,” Yuuri muffled his laugh into Victor’s shoulder, nuzzling it for a second before returning his attention to the countertop before them.

A tray was already half-filled with choux pastry shaped into the bodies of swans. A good third of them were a great deal less professional looking than the others. “You cannot silence love, Yuuri,” Victor replied, attempting to pipe out another swan shape.

Yuuri reached over to guide his hands, helping him give it that proper curve. “I can try and silence your loud declarations of love though,” he teased. The rest of the palace was silent, mostly everyone sleeping save for the guards on night duty. The kitchens were dark and empty, the two of them having lit a few lamps when they entered.

“How are you going to do that?” Victor asked, gazing down at Yuuri.

Yuuri pulled over the nearby bowl of prepared chantilly cream sitting on ice and dipped a finger in before smearing the cream over Victor’s lips. The surprise was caught in the kiss Yuuri tipped up to grant him, tasting the sweetness between them.

Victor abandoned the choux pastry, wrapping Yuuri up in his embrace. He tilted his temple to Yuuri’s as they broke the kiss. “Very effective.”

“Finish the swans and I’ll give you a hundred more.”

The prince stole another kiss nonetheless and turned back to the pastries, smiling as happily as he always did when they were together.

~~~~~~~

_Prompt: Chris gives the pair a pole for a wedding gift_

“W-what are we supposed to do with this?” Yuuri stammered through the question as the delegation from the Giacometti kingdom set up a golden pole that stretched to the ceiling.

“I think it’s for some form of dance that Chris was telling me about,” Victor answered, standing beside Yuuri, a hand on the small of the baker’s back. “He said he wanted to demonstrate…”

“Not just demonstrate, cheri!” Chris called back, his fingers curling around high on the pole and then he lifted a leg, hooking his knee around it as well. With a surprising amount of grace, he raised himself off the floor and held out a hand in offer toward Yuuri. “We’ve all seen what a great dancer Yuuri is, and as a newly appointed Duke, he should learn and participate in the customs of the other kingdoms! This is from mine.” 

The suggestive wink from Chris left Yuuri feeling a bit flustered. “I… I don’t know if I can do that.” Much less in a banquet hall full of wedding guests.

“Nonsense, my dearest Yuuri,” Chris dismissed with a grand smile as he shifted positions. He moved fluidly and Yuuri did have to admit it was rather captivating seeing how the foreign royal arched off the pole, supporting his body through the strength of his thighs. “It’s great exercise for your core as well. And good cardio for your husband.”

Yuuri glanced at Victor to see pink tinting the tips of his ears. “Don’t laugh at me if I fall?”

“I’ll be right there to catch you, darling.”

With a smile, Yuuri nodded and stepped up, taking the golden pole in hand.

~~~~~~~

_Prompt: Phichit crashing the wedding reception via giant hamster._

It was toward the end of the night, with the celebrations winding down and a good portion of the champagne emptied, that a thunderous crash came from the gardens outside the banquet hall.

As the lingering guests peeked through glass doors or spilled outside to see the commotion, Yuuri found himself with Victor’s arm wound tight and protective around his waist.

“Whoa, horsey! I mean… Whoa, hammy!”

Yuuri recognized that voice, as well as the very loud squeak which followed it.

At the center of the gardens, amongst the azaleas, was a giant hamster and a glittering fairy riding on its back.

“Ohmygod,” Yuuri exhaled, hearing Victor echo the sentiment beside him.

“Yuuuuuri! Congrats on your marriage!” Phichit shouted, waving enthusiastically.

“Phichit…. Phichit, you’re….” The words would not process.

“Yeah, I know! Fairy graduation parties are wild! I just got my license!… Oh, ummm…” Phichit seemed to realize just how much attention he and his hamster were attracting. “Oh okay, heh, wow.. Umm, none of you saw this! Way too much royal champagne you’re all drinking!” he commanded strongly, clapping his hands with a burst of glitter.

Yuuri blinked, watching as the guests nodded their heads casually, in unconcerned agreement.

“Yuuri… there’s….” Victor glanced over at his husband in bewilderment.

Yuuri reacted by snatching up another glass of champagne from a passing attendant, pressing it into his husband’s hands. “Drink.”

Victor downed the glass in one.

~~~~~~~

_Prompt: "The entire kingdom is in a panic, the duke is ill! The Crown Prince is inconsolable." "Everyone calm down. He has a cold."_

Yuuri sneezed.

Victor nearly burst into tears.

“Vitya, I’m fine, it’s just a cold,” Yuuri protested as Victor continued to tuck more cushions around his husband as if they would somehow miraculously cure him. “I told you dancing in the rain again was a bad idea, we’re getting a little too old for that.”

Victor leaned over the bed and pressed a kiss to Yuuri’s forehead, frowning as the skin burned warm under the lips. “I’m having some medicinal herbs from the Ji kingdom brought in.”

Laughing, Yuuri shook his head. “I’ll be fine by the time they get here. If you don’t leave, you’ll catch it, and then you’ll be the one drinking those horrible things.”

“I can’t live without you, Yuuri.”

“The doctor said I’ll get better quicker if I rest. Are you going to keep me awake and from recovery?” Yuuri questioned pointedly, smile still on his lips.

His husband leapt up in response. “You’re right. I’ll make go sure the cooks are making you something for when you wake up.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be preparing to meet with the representatives from the east?” Yuuri reminded, to Victor’s sheepish grin.

“How am I supposed to concentrate on anything like that when my dear husband is sick?”

“Your dear husband is going to kick your cute royal butt if you don’t leave him to rest and get to your duties.”

With a laugh, Victor touched another kiss to the top of Yuuri’s head, his dark hair now speckled with greying strands, then squeezed his hand, thumb tracing over their wedding ring. “Then rest. I’ll be back to check on you soon.”

“I love you too, Vitya,” Yuuri said and settled into the mass of cushions Victor had surrounded him with, closing his eyes.

Victor lingered at the door, watching Yuuri doze off in their bed. Really though, how was he supposed to concentrate when his Yuuri was sick? Not even that much could be expected of a king.


	6. Prompt-a-thon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Variety of prompts done for a prompt-a-thon back in May

_Prompt: the day Yuuri is added to Victor's bank accounts. Before marriage, Yuuri panics._

It was not supposed to be a big deal. At all. Victor told him so. Phichit told him so. His family thought it was a bit odd, mostly because Japan didn’t do joint bank accounts, but they also told him it would be fine. Yuuri told himself the same thing.

Except it wasn’t. Because there were more digits in the account than Yuuri had expected. A lot more. Commas more.

“You’re…. You’re super rich…” Yuuri dared to breathe out when the bank clerk left to grab some documents.

“Huh?” Victor had been perfectly nonchalant through the entire process, more giddy than anything. “Oh. Yeah. I guess?”

Yuuri knew Victor had money. It was impossible to miss, with the penthouse apartment and the Gucci sunglasses, as well as how Victor never seemed to pay much mind to the price of anything. But this was a lot more than Yuuri’s best estimate, combining all of Victor’s winnings and sponsorships and all the promo work he did in addition to skating. This was beyond world-class athlete money.

“My parents were well off. I inherited a good chunk, plus I lucked out and made some good investments very early on,” Victor expanded. “Is that… bad?”

It wasn’t bad. It was good. Far too good. Far too good for Yuuri.

“You’ve got money too, it’s not like this is a huge deal.”

“Not like this!” Yuuri had a bit of money. But the majority of his earnings went to paying expenses, university, and the nearly all the rest to supporting his family’s inn. Yuuri managed okay, but he also didn’t spend a lot. Or at all. “I mean, are you sure this is okay with you? Because we don’t have to do this.”

Victor laughed and swooped in, kissing Yuuri’s cheek. “Don’t worry, love, I don’t think you’re a gold digger. Though I probably wouldn’t care if you were.”

That only made Yuuri feel slightly better. Especially when Victor decided to celebrate that evening with a couple very expensive bottles of champagne.

~~~~~~~

_Prompt: Coffee shop au with Yuuri as barista and Viktor as his most loyal customer_

Yuuri smiled brightly when the bell on the door jingled right on schedule, and his favorite regular walked in, looking as strikingly handsome as always.

There was a lot of gossip in the cafe over the last few weeks about what Victor did for a living, because he was always immaculately dressed, his blue eyes always brightening along with his unfairly charming smile whenever he stepped up to the counter and saw Yuuri behind it.

“Good morning, Yuuri,” Victor greeted, before Yuuri even had the chance to welcome him in, but Victor seemed pleased when the blush spread quickly across Yuuri’s cheeks.

“Hi,” Yuuri answered. Victor came in every morning at 8:27, like clockwork, and usually lingered with his order at a window table until 8:53, at which point he always made sure to catch Yuuri’s gaze and wave before leaving for whichever nearby building he probably worked at. And every morning, like clockwork, Yuuri’s heart thumped little marathons inside his chest. “The usual?” Medium black housebrand coffee, with a bit of room at the top for cream. No sugar.

“Actually, I wanted to ask for something better today.”

“Oh?” Yuuri bit back the surprise. Victor hadn’t changed his order since day one. “Sure, what can I get you?”

“Your number. And a date.”

Somewhere behind Yuuri, Phichit knocked over a container of milk and whooped. Yuuri made a mental note to kick him for it later. But he also wasn’t Employee of the Month three-months running for bad customer service. How could he possibly turn down Victor?

“As long as you’re not asking me out for coffee.”

~~~~~~~

_Prompt: "I don't want to ask but why is this place covered with so many eggs that I can't even see the furniture?"_

“I don’t want to ask, but why is this place covered with so many eggs that I can’t even see the furniture?”

Victor and Yurio grinned sheepishly from the kitchen. “Uhhh… we found a ‘easy’ recipe for katsudon and thought we’d surprise you?” Victor tried.

“But why is it also in the living room?”

“Don’t ask,” Yurio growled, shoving a bowl of what looked like attempted katsudon at Yuuri. “Don’t ever ask.”

~~~~~~~

_Prompt: Gay Porn version of LAF_

“Wow amazing,” the prince drawled as he approached across the large and otherwise empty palace kitchens, with counters of perfect height for the engaging of certain…. activities. “That’s quite a… swam… that you’ve got there in your hands.”

Yuuri dropped the swan. More like tipped it. Right onto the prince. Getting cream all over his chest, flecks of white splattering across his face.

“I’m so s-sorry—oh my god—" Yuuri said, throwing aside the silver tray and grasping at the prince’s cream-covered shirt. “Let me clean you up, your highness.”

Instead of cleaning up, Yuuri stripped the expensive fabrics off the prince, smearing chantilly cream over the royal’s skin in his haste. “How can I ever make it up to you, my prince?”

“You can lick it off me,” Victor proposed. “And then marry me, so we can live happily ever after.”

They did exactly that.

~~~~~~~

_Prompt: Yuuri keeps getting mistaken for a teenager. Viktor doesn't know if he should be amused or jealous_

The first time it happened, Yuuri came back from the supermarket with an annoyed scowl uncharacterstically carved into his face. He set down the grocery bags on the counter with a dull thud and met Victor’s inquisitive gaze. “They wouldn’t sell me the wine.”

“What, why?” Victor asked, joining Yuuri in the kitchen to help him sort away the purchases.

“They didn’t think I was old enough.”

“It’s Russia, no one’s old enough.”

“The cashier thought I was twelve,” Yuuri huffed. Victor laughed, although with Yuuri’s ruffled hair and glasses, and the fact that he’d stolen one of Victor’s sweaters before heading out, did give his Japanese features an even younger look than normal.

“Twelve with a credit card?” Victor teased.

“I paid cash.”

Victor spent the rest of the day playfully referring to Yuuri as “baby.”

 

The second time it happened, Yuuri was refused entry to a club in Geneva. It took a lot of very fast French from both Chris and Victor to convince that it was not, in fact, a fake ID.

 

The third time was en-route to a competition. The person beside Yuuri in the airport lounge had struck up a conversation, and the topic quickly turned to figure-skating.

When Yuuri explained that he was competing, the woman lit up. “Oh, you’re in the Juniors?”

Victor nearly tripped on his way to grab them both some coffee.

 

The fourth time it happened was, unbelievably, at a bar in Japan. It was in Ginza, high class, and often served lots of foreign businesspersons and thus the normally lax drinking age check was actually being enforced.

Victor could not help but laugh as Yuuri flailed helplessly at what was something that was becoming more commonplace. It took a combination of his US driver’s license and a Googled article about himself to convince the bartender to bring him a drink.

Victor kept chuckling and teasing about Yuuri’s perpetual youth, until a now mildly irritated Yuuri pointed out that neither that time, nor in any of the previous instances, had Victor’s age been pulled into question.

Dramatically put-on tears swam in Victor’s eyes for a moment, before he fired back a comment about how at least no one would notice his hair getting grey with age, however long they spent together.

~~~~~~~

_Prompt: Where they transition from using condoms to bareback_

The combination that was Yuuri’s silver at the Grand Prix, his world record, and the whispers about an engagement meant that he had reporters shoving microphones in his face one second, and friends shoving drinks into his hands the next.

By the time he and Victor managed to escape to their hotel room, they were a little drunk and a lot more exhausted. They managed to strip each other of their clothes and then nothing more than collapse on the pushed-together beds, Victor drawing Yuuri into his arms. Both dozed off before they finished exchanging their good nights.

It was still dark beyond the crack of the window curtains when Yuuri stirred, shifting into the warmth and firmness that was Victor’s body behind him. A pleased exhale rolled hot against the nape of his neck, and in the dark of the Barcelona hotel room, Yuuri turned in the bed and straight into the deep kiss Victor caught him in.

Victor’s bare skin felt like hot silk under Yuuri’s hands, burning and beckoning as his muscles twitched in response to each brush of Yuuri’s fingertips. Their sighs filled the early morning hours, faded into the growing heat between them.

Against his upper thigh, Yuuri could feel the hard press of Victor’s mirrored want, broken by frustrating moment of Victor having to pull away from the plushness of Yuuri’s mouth and the temptation of his emboldened touch.

Yuuri laughed when he heard Victor swear after stumbling in the dark of the room, and upon returning to the bed, Yuuri fumbled with the condom wrapper that was pressed into his hands. He threw his arms around Victor’s shoulders, kissing up the length of his neck in encouragement as lubricant-slicked fingers pressed into him.

“Ahhh, Victor, we should…” The daze of the too-early hours and the stretch inside him had Yuuri whimpering far faster than usual. “When we get back to Japan we can…”

“We should what, love?” Victor asked, affection clear in his eyes, even in the dim.

Yuuri was glad the darkness could hide his blush. “I was thinking that… uhh, maybe we could…” He tapped the corner of the condom wrapper against Victor’s shoulder. “They’re kind of annoying?… Sometimes?”

Victor paused, then smiled, nodding in understanding. “Do you know where we can go?”

“Yeah, umm, there’s a clinic by the station. I don’t know if you want to go together or…?” Yuuri would have trusted Victor’s word if he gave it, but he also wanted to do it properly. “I mean, if we’re-… I thought, if you were serious about the engagement, I thought maybe we could-… I only want to be with you.”

Victor’s response was his curled fingers setting off sparks inside Yuuri and the crash of his mouth against Yuuri’s. “I’d go anywhere with you, Yuuri.”

By the time the sun rose, they’d discarded more than one pair of foil and latex.

~~~~~~~

_Prompt: Yuuri doesn't like to wake up and Victor comes up with a way to make it a lot fun and pleasurable for them both? Victor dives under Yuuri's shirt, doesn't matter whom which angle and makes him turn on his back. His head is under the shirt and he is doing some shallow biting and dinosaur noises - imitating Alien breaking from Yuuri's chest. Lots of giggles and cuddles and sloppy wet belly kisses and Yuuri being ticklish._

The soft groan of protest made Victor pout. “Yuuri, wake up.” Kiss to the cheek earned Victor a whine and sleepy mutter which was mostly unintelligible but unmistakably some sort of no.Yuuri being the exact opposite of a morning bird was actually quite cute, in Victor’s mind. He adored the slow shuffle of Yuuri’s feet across the kitchen tiles, how his eyes stayed closed through the first sip of coffee, how he muffled his yawns into his shoulder. But it was their first day off in a while and Victor wanted to do something with it.

“Solnyshko, pazhalusta,” Victor pleaded against Yuuri’s morning-soft skin, but Yuuri only drew him in, tucking Victor’s head under his chin. His fingers stroked lazily through Victor’s hair.

“Your solnyshko wants five more minutes,” Yuuri murmured, eyelashes barely flickering when Victor tilted his face back up to dot more kisses across Yuuri’s jaw. The five minutes passed, and without a hint of shame, Yuuri mumbled about wanting five more.

Slipping down Yuuri’s chest, Victor ignored the hum of disapproval from Yuuri, the half warning that he was still too tired for anything _like that_. Hands taking hold of Yuuri’s hips, Victor rolled his fiance onto his back and then pushed up the fabric of Yuuri’s loose sleep shirt, nuzzling into stomach. Yuuri shivered beneath him. “Vitya, mmm….”

The quiet sigh of appreciation cut into a squeal when Victor bit down into a soft patch of flesh above the curve of Yuuri’s hip before littering his skin in sloppy kisses, rubbing his cheek against Yuuri’s abdominal muscles, cooing into his belly before blowing raspberries against it. Yuuri jerked with laughter, fingers clutching at Victor’s shoulder as the Russian continued to assault him in a mixture of shallow bites and wet smacks of lips against skin.

“S-stop, what are you doing?!” Yuuri threw off the blankets as Victor growled into his stomach, shifting his head under the fabric of Yuuri’s shirt. He laughed in realization, “God, Vitya, really? That isn’t supposed to be cute!” He pulled his shirt off Victor’s head, trying to tug him back up, but Victor simply blew cool air across Yuuri’s belly button, causing him to kick and shout as Victor covered him in hundreds of tiny kisses.

“Okay, okay, I’m up!” Yuuri declared as another well-placed nip of Victor’s teeth had him arching off the mattress for a variety of reasons.

Smile plastered wide and handsome across his face, Victor finally lifted off and sought out Yuuri’s mouth instead.

“Good morning.”

~~~~~~~

_Prompt: Things you said in the spur of the moment_

“Marry me.”

Yuuri first heard those words muttered sleepily from Victor’s lips as Yuuri practically carried him to his room at the inn. Victor drank far too much sake with Yuuri’s father, which led into him nuzzling at Yuuri’s neck in affection, which was embarrassing enough on its own, but when the kisses started, Yuuri’s mom politely sugggested it was time to put Victor to bed.

Yuuri pressed his lips to Victor’s forehead and promised that he would.

~~~~~~~

_Prompt: It was Vicchan that led Victor and Makkachin to Yuuri_

If he were honest with himself, Victor should have thought more thoroughly ahead. But he had a tendency to make decisions without considering all the ramifications of his action. Wearing a costume inspired by bondage lingerie at age 16. Chopping off his hair. Dancing with a drunk Japanese skater at an official ISU banquet and then flying halfway around the world.

But, maybe, it would have been helpful if Victor had Googled the address of the inn that Yuuri’s family was supposed to own before arriving in town. Because the taxi driver he had hailed outside of Hasetsu station was giving him a very blank look that said _I won’t understand your English no matter how slowly or loudly you talk at me._

And how was Victor supposed to explain, _I’m looking for the hot spring inn run by the family of the skater that stole my heart by dry-humping my leg while totally sloshed on four bottles of champagne,_ through mime?

The rapid-fire and starting-to-sound-irritated Japanese which came back to him had Victor huffing in exasperation. “Okay, wait, wait!” Victor held up a hand and dug his phone out from the inside of his coat. Maybe he had something saved on there that would help. The driver had not recognized Yuuri’s name, no matter how different ways Victor tried to repeat it. Makkachin was whining from inside his cage and it was making Victor feel all the more pressure, especially with the odd glances that they were collecting from people passing by.

“I want to go to an inn? A hotel? Hotel? With hot springs?” He tried again, flurry of thoughts not producing the Japanese word for it. What was it. He’d looked it up. He knew it. He’d been to them before, on a previous trip to Japan for competition. “On… on-something… Onsen! Onsen, that’s it!”

The driver quirked up at eyebrow. Then nodded slowly, as if half in understanding.

Victor flipped rapidly through photo files on his phone, now feeling a little less ridiculous at having saved the few of Yuuri’s social media posts he had managed to find. One or two photos, courtesy of that Thai skater he couldn’t remember the name of, but the driver had already blinked at the posters Victor had pointed to outside the station.

“Yeah, an onsen!” Victor said, and then sorted through a few other photos. “They have this!” A photo of katsudon that Yuuri used as his Instagram profile picture. Victor scrolled to the next one. A photo Yuuri had posted a few years back, of his older sister and poodle. Victor felt a pange of guilt, having read online after the Grand Prix that the dog died mid-event. No wonder Yuuri had performed so poorly. He went to quickly switch to the next one, hoping anything might trigger a reaction, but the driver stopped him.

Victor froze as the taxi driver squinted at the photo of Mari and the miniature brown poodle, and then looked up at Victor. More Japanese, followed by pointing to the photo on Victor’s phone and then at Makkachin, who was pawing at the door of his cage.

Gaping, Victor’s brain caught up. “Yes! A dog, like mine! A poodle. From that onsen inn?”

Relief washed over the driver’s aged face and he laughed shortly. “Vicchan!” he declared, clapping his hands together, “Onsen? Katsuki-san no Yutopia darou? Wakatta!”

“Yes! Katsuki!” Victor realized how much his pronunciation of the name differed from the driver’s.

“Hai, hai, ii yo. Ikou!” The man gestured at his taxi and went to help Victor load his excessive amounts of luggage into the trunk.

Victor could not help but fist-pump in celebration.


	7. Random Prompts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few random prompts from here and there

_Prompt: Victor's favorite thing is to sit in Yuur's lap_

“Vitya, you’re heavy…” Yuuri complained after Victor settled squarely and happily in his lap, smiling so wide that Yuuri could glimpse both sets of his pearly teeth. “There’s a whole sofa…”

“You’re more comfortable,” Victor replied, arms looping around Yuuri’s waist. He nuzzled his face into the cotton of Yuuri’s shirt collar, lips brushing halfway between skin and fabric.

“Your ass is hurting me,” Yuuri protested, tapping the top of one of Victor’s butt cheeks. He was rewarded by a playful wiggle.

“It’s not hurting me,” Victor purred, warmth of his breath traveling up the side of Yuuri’s neck and then spreading through all of him at the nip to his earlobe. “If you want though, you can make it ache just a little.”

Closing his eyes, Yuuri groaned and his fingertips dug firmer to grip onto his fiance’s said asset. “Turn into me,” he muttered, skimming the words across Victor’s mouth.

Victor almost fell off the sofa in his haste to straddle Yuuri’s lap.

~~~~~~~

_Prompt: Yuuri gently playing with Victors hair in the morning while they're both sleepy_

It’s a rest day. They both worked themselves down to the bone the day before. No alarms have been set, but their bodies are still used to waking up on a schedule.

It’s Victor who nuzzles into Yuuri’s chest, cheek pressed over Yuuri’s heart as he drifts in and out, half-muttering something about coffee and taking Makkachin out. Makka’s still dozing at the foot of the bed, paying them no mind.

Yuuri hums out in agreement, but he can’t be bothered to even open his eyes. His fingers find the back of Victor’s neck and he threads them through the strands there. Yuuri’s always loved Victor’s hair, since he first saw it. He always pictured it as this image of perfection, but in reality Victor gets pretty bad bedhead.

But it’s still amazing to run his fingers through it, fingertips gently massaging into Victor’s scalp. Yuuri had always imagined Victor’s hair would be soft, but he never realized how different it would feel from his own. Nothing like his thick, coarse Japanese hair. It’s fine, strands thin, and falls like sand between his fingers. Yuuri can never get enough.

Victor murmurs his approval, an arm draping loosely around Yuuri’s waist. His fingers slip over the sliver of skin between the nightshirt and pajama bottoms that Yuuri wears to bed. It’s slightly ticklish, but Yuuri’s too sleepy to care. He sighs and tips his head forward, burying his nose in the whorl of Victor’s hair. It smells of expensive conditioner and of the dawn.

Yuuri kisses the top of Victor’s head, fingers still playing with his hair until they both drift off back into a light sleep.

Eventually, Makkachin gets up and starts pawing at the blankets in a plea for breakfast. Yuuri’s fingers curl into Victor’s hair as he accepts their wonderful every morning kiss.

~~~~~~~

_Prompt: A collection of people walking in on Victuuri_

“Nowhere is safe anymore,” Yurio hissed to Mila one morning, nearly ripping the laces off his skates as he threaded them with as much outward aggression as possible.

“You’re telling me, even I’m getting tired of it,” she said, tugging her red hair back into a short ponytail. “They were all over each other in the parking lot last night. I feel like I need to print stickers of those… what are they called, those black and white warning things on music albums?”

“Parental advisories?”

“Yeah, those!” she clapped her hands and pointed in confirmation. “Parental advisory stickers. Keep a bunch on me and slap one on them whenever they get going.”

Instead of laughing, Yurio stuck out his tongue at her. “Great, thanks, now half of music library is going to remind me of those idiots making out.”

“You’re too young for CDs,” Georgi commented as he joined them at the side of the rink. “Don’t pretend you pay attention to album art.”

“Sometimes!” Yurio snapped.

“Beka’s?” Mila teased, laughing when the little blonde scowled and shoved his hands into his pockets, hunching over in his hoodie.

“Shut up.”

“Awww, what’s bristling your fur, kitten?” Mila prodded, poking at Yurio’s side even as he flailed his hands as her, hissing and not doing much to correct the petname. “Which territory of yours did they claim?”

“Coffee shop around the corner,” Yurio muttered, looking like he’d be kicking at the ice the second he was on it. “Can’t even get a fucking muffin anymore without seeing those losers making out in the corner.”

“They’re in love, it’s beautiful,” Georgi defended, receiving groans and dismissals from both of his younger rinkmates.

“Just wait till you walk in on them banging in the shower,” Yurio muttered.

“They haven’t!”

“They probably have,” Mila reassured.

“They wouldn’t!”

“They so would,” Yurio replied, bitterness doubling over as a too-happy greeting was shouted over to them.

Victor and Yuuri had entered the rink, hands in each other’s back pockets, wearing each other’s team jackets.

Georgi and Mila waved back, while Yurio attempted to scowl even harder than before. Mila patted his back in sympathy, telling him it wouldn’t be that bad, and she was right for about twenty seconds, until Victor pecked Yuuri’s cheek affectionately and the PDA quickly descended into a lot more tiny kisses being swapped between them, despite the dark blush on Yuuri’s face.

Georgi just sighed, the hearts practically visible as they floated off his head in the dreamy wonder of how wonderful love could be.

Behind him, Yurio did a very good impersonation of a cat hacking up a hairball.

~~~~~~~

_Prompt: LaF: "As a baker, I specialize in making things rise" -- Katsuki Yuuri to Prince Victor, probably_

“So, as a baker, do you specialize in making things rise?”

“Huh, uhh, yeah, I guess?” Yuuri’s response was unfocused, his concentration on the counter before him, where he was placing the finishing touches on a simple but nonetheless gorgeous chocolate cake. It was Mila’s birthday, and Yuuri had chocolate from the Giacometti kingdom imported in order to craft the extra rich confection special for her. “I mean, I don’t know if I would say specialize, once you know what you’re doing, it’s pretty easy to make things rise–”

Amusement erupted across Victor’s face as Yuuri cut himself off, jerking around to look at the chuckling prince.

“That-…. you were making _that_ kind of comment,” Yuuri realized, cheeks blooming with pink.

“Are you calling me easy, my darling?” Victor questioned, stepping into his baker’s side, a hand coming up to rest over the small of Yuuri’s back.

For a moment, Yuuri blinked at Victor, and then he dipped a finger into the leftover frosting in a nearby bowl before smearing it across Victor’s mouth. The prince had no time to react, Yuuri swooping in to lick the chocolate cream from Victor’s lips.

His tongue expertly traced the bow of Victor’s upper lip, then swept across the plush curve of the lower. Yuuri released the softest hum of content when he pulled back from a rather shocked looking prince, licking his own lips as he sighed out, “ahh, delicious…”

Not wasting a second, Victor grabbed Yuuri by the hips and lifted him up onto the counter. He stole the squeak of surprise straight off Yuuri’s still chocolate frosting speckled mouth.

Laughing, Yuuri draped his arms over Victor’s shoulders and accepted the eager kiss. “Mmmm, see, easy,” he teased.

“Then you must be a specialist, cause you’re already making me rise,” Victor responded, shameless even against the groan from Yuuri which followed. He just drank it down, along with the taste of the frosting lingered on Yuuri’s tongue.

Yuuri had to make a second cake, because the first one ended up getting knocked to the floor at some point during the twenty or so minutes which followed.

~~~~~~~

_Prompt: Yuuri is actually really strong, and he can lift other skaters,easily. Like yurio or someone gets hurt and he lifts them off the ice and everyone else is like wtf just happened._

Everyone gets a personal demonstration of Yuuri’s impressive strength in a different way.

Georgi sees it in action at an airport, when traveling with the team to the Russian Nationals, when he nearly throws out his back trying to take Victor’s baggage off the carousel. It was as if Victor packed his own weight in gold in there. Yuuri dashes in, apologizes, and plucks it up without even blinking.

The growth spurt over the following summer hits Yurio hard, makes his movements awkwards, and his technicality on the ice suffers. One stubborn afternoon, he nearly blows out his ankle trying for a quad he’s already been warned off of. He can’t even wobble out of the rink on his own, so Yuuri skates by, lifts him up and carries him out all while Yurio protests loudly (then grudgingly spits out a thanks on the bench).

Yakov comes into the rink one morning to see Victor and Yuuri already on the ice, messing around with a new pairs ice dance routine that they’ve repeatedly been told they shouldn’t be focusing on, since neither have yet perfected their free programs for the upcoming season. He’s about to bark at them when Victor skates to Yuuri, who pushes Victor overhead into a full carry lift. It’s shockingly steady. Yakov says nothing, especially since they learn their lesson a minute later when they try it again and go tumbling onto the ice in a fit of giggles.

Mila’s not sure if she could consider herself the lucky one or not. She forgets her phone at the rink one evening, and comes back late, ducking inside to search for it. What she doesn’t find is her phone. What she does find is Victor lifted off the ground and against a wall, bare legs hooked around Yuuri’s waist, arms over his shoulders and head thrown back in ecstacy as Yuuri _thrusts_ against him. She squeaks and runs off, phone forgotten until the next morning, when a smiling Yuuri hands it to her at practice. She barely resists commenting on the reason for his very pleased expression.


	8. Collabs w/ Morrindah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A collection of ficlets made in collaboration with art from @somethingyoirelated.  
> Links to the art embedded in the prompts

_Prompt: Yuuri modeling[men's athletic underwear](https://somethingyoirelated.tumblr.com/post/164170503801/lucycamui-somethingyoirelated-yuuri-in-mens)_

On a typical day, Victor thanks every diety he can name at least once for granting him the gift that is his fiance. Having been born in the Soviet Union, Victor isn’t particularly religious, but Yuuri has given him reason to worship.

The prayers of gratitude result from a variety of triggers. How Yuuri breathes in coffee on early mornings, both hands wrapped around the mug, his eyelashes still sweeping his cheekbones as the smallest smile curls the edges of his lips. How his spine curves in elegance when he arches into an Ina Bauer, on the ice or in their bed. How he smiles over his shoulder, beautiful and beckoning, when they walk Makkachin along the coastline in Hasetsu or the riverside in St. Petersburg. How different languages sound cascading off his lips. The slip into Saga-ben when he talks to his sister on his weekly calls to his family, his cheerful greetings to Phichit in Thai, the taste of Detriot in his English. That blend of Japan and America when it’s Russian coming off his tongue like a blessing, when Yuuri calls him Vitenka and smirks, knowing exactly the state of utter uselessness the endearment reduces Victor to.

It is not a typical day.

It is a day Victor will campaign to make into a national holiday, in every country that he visits. He plans to visit them all.

“Yuuri…” His hands hold the greatest gift to mankind, one that he would never have imagined existed but now cannot fathom ever living without. Much like his fiance himself.

“Please don’t take this into a big deal,” Yuuri sighs beside him and Victor feels affronted.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Victor flips, page by page. Slow. Gentle. Cautious. Afraid to do anything to damage the treasure in his hands, while also terrified that taking it in too quickly will leave him deceased on the attic floor in a state of ecstacy.

“I forgot?” Yuuri shrugs, continuing to search through boxes left in storage. “I did them my first semester in university, I was kinda worried about other things.”

Victor sits cross-legged and flips another page of the catalogue. He almost has to clutch at his heart to prevent it from leaping out of his chest. He has forgotten whatever it is they were looking for in the inn’s attic. Some documents. Or an old costume. Perhaps his self-control.

Whatever it was has been swept away by a catalogue full of photos of Yuuri in men’s athletic underwear. Shirtless and fit, in-peak season form, posing and flexing while wearing nothing but variously colored and cut designs that all cling to his thighs and frame his hips like the sin that they are. Victor shamelessly and desperately wants to lick the bulge at the center. “How old were you?”

“Umm… eighteen or nineteen,” Yuuri responds, reaching up to grab a box set away high on a shelf filled with others that Victor already knows contain all of Yuuri’s awards and certificates accumulated over his skating career. He and Mama Katsuki had already riffled through all of them, complete with photos albums mapping each accomplishment while Yuuri groaned in embarrassment in the background. Victor watches the stretch of his back and whispers out another grateful thank you. “Wait, I did those during Christmas break, so nineteen. Yeah.”

Nineteen year old Yuuri. Sexy, tempting, gorgeous Yuuri, casting a half-lidded look at the camera. Victor knows that look. Victor dies every time he is on the receiving end of that look. It is Yuuri’s _come here and ravish me_ look. The one that has Victor tripping over his own feet and heart in a scramble to obey, no matter the setting or circumstance. “I didn’t know you modeled…"

“I don’t,” Yuuri defends, scrunching up his nose to supress a sneeze at the dust which puffs up when he sets down the box. He pauses, laughing at the incredulous expression on Victor’s face. “Those are all photoshopped.“

“Lift up your shirt.” When Yuuri throws him a look of protest, Victor pouts. “Please, solnyshko?”

As Victor can never resist anything Yuuri asks of him, Yuuri is much the same. With a roll of his eyes, he lifts the hem of his shirt, showing off his pre-season stomach.

Victor is on him in an instant, catalogue abandoned. He kisses at the softness below his bellybutton and traces the line from Yuuri’s hips with little nips of his teeth, drawing out a stream of giggles. “Victor, stop!“

“You should do some more. Twenty-four year old Yuuri is even sexier.” Victor nuzzles into Yuuri’s abdomen, feeling the ridge of muscles beneath the silk of his skin.

Yuuri cups Victor’s face in his hands and tilts it up, stroking thumbs across his cheeks as he smiles down at Victor. Victor wants to scale up the side of Hasetsu Castle again just to shout his love for the gift that is Yuuri. “Won’t you get jealous? Normally that view is reserved for your eyes only.”

“Make sure the photographer gets your ring in every shot,” Victor replies and turns his face into Yuuri’s hand, kissing at his palm and the band around his finger. “Such a shame not to show off something so beautiful.”

Yuuri’s smile is brighter than the glint of gold and Victor melts just as quickly beneath it.

When the photos come back, Victor becomes a religious man and enthusiastically prays on his knees to the temple that is Yuuri’s body. Without the athletic wear on.

~~~~~~~

_Prompt:[Dagger thrower Yuuri](https://somethingyoirelated.tumblr.com/post/162004805711/lucycamui-somethingyoirelated-continuing-the)_

The first dagger landed a centimeter to the left of his chest and right through his heart.

Victor was spellbound from the moment those dark eyes had swept the audience and settled on him, unrelenting. He did not even remember volunteering. That little smile crooking up a corner of a tempting mouth left him speechless to protest, unsure if he was being strapped in by a dagger thrower or a hypnotist. Surely _Eros_ was both, because even as dagger after dagger lodged itself dangerously close to Victor in the wooden board behind him, he could not tear himself away. Not from the easy expression on Eros’ gorgeous face as he played with Victor’s life, smiling after every throw.

With each dull _thud_ , Eros carved a bit further into Victor.

Another dagger struck the wood, penetrating hard and fast, inches plunging in deep with little warning. Close enough to his cheek that his silver hair fluttered with the impact. Victor did not even blink, enraptured by how Eros twirled the daggers between his fingers. Making them as delicate as if he were weaving flowers and not playing with a weapon that could easily open up Victor’s veins in a swift stroke of his wrist, have him spilling out willingly for the beauty that was Eros before him.

At every throw, Eros stepped further away and Victor felt that same thud in his chest. Frozen in the instructions given him of _don’t you dare move handsome, look only at me, wouldn’t want you getting hurt_ , and the thought that he could look only at Eros until the universe itself faded.

Victor had nearly missed the wink cast at him when Eros had first drawn away, too enamored by the rough feel of calloused fingertips stroking along his wrists as they bond him into leather straps. _You look even better tied down_ , the whisper had rolled like a sin across his ear. Victor shamelessly wanted that wooden board put to another purpose which would make for a far better climax to a different type of show.

He could picture being strapped down, immobile, eager to Eros’ every whim as the performer teased him not with daggers but with the sharpness of his tongue, the bite of smirking lips against his skin. Playing with fire and thrill, drawn like a fool to the mirage of an oasis that would vanish the moment he was about to grasp for it.

Eros spoke to his audience in a soft voice, yet it carried through the crowd without hindrance, stealing attention as easily as he stole hearts. From that first gentle drop of sweetly accented syllables, Victor found himself pulled on a string straight to Eros, one he seemed to be tugging on himself. Those brown eyes had lingered at no other member of his audience, plucking Victor out from the crowd like he was picking out a plaything. Victor had not hesitated jumping on that stage to join him.

With his last dagger, Yuuri smiled at Victor and stole the life straight from his lungs. He turned, casting a short glance over his shoulder, made sure Victor saw him closing his eyes.

Time skipped. Stopped. Held its breath for Eros.

He spun with the grace of a dancer, hurled the final dagger, and Victor was gone.

Lost to the sound of whistles, applause, hollers from Eros’s audience. Lost to the wonder that was Eros approaching, subtlest pink dusting high across his cheeks. Lost to Eros’s hand curling around one of the daggers imbedded above his shoulder, pinning him down with the curve of his lips and the faint sheen of sweat glistening on his chest, exposed and inviting. Destroyed by the trace of Eros’s fingers walking up the hilt of the blade sunk high between his legs, a threat and a beckon to every spark of desire firing through him. Eros grasped the dagger and jerked it out, trailing the tip up the center line of Victor’s maddeningly tight trousers.

“How incredible. Listen to them roar for us,” Eros breathed against Victor’s lips. “You make an ideal partner, Victor.“

“Is that an invitation?” Victor asked, barely remembering the syllables as he watched Eros’s brown eyes dip down to drink in the movement of his mouth.

Eros dragged the dagger back down the seam of Victor’s trousers, sharp promise along hard interest. “Come back with me. Let’s see how close to your skin I can get.”

~~~~~~~

_Prompt:[Fire-eater Yuuri](https://somethingyoirelated.tumblr.com/post/164597968456/lucycamui-somethingyoirelated-as-promised)_

He was already beautiful. The flickering blue of the flames licking at his skin only made him ethereal, the image of the god he was named for.

He played with fire like he played with hearts. Stealing them away with coy looks, bow sweet lips, and the arch in his back as he swallowed heat with a promise.

His movements were an invitation. A flick of the wrist, curl of his mouth, the point of his toes and roll of the ankles as he danced. Grace in his muscles and danger in his hands. Sweat decorated his skin in crystals, tracing the curves of his body like a wish being granted.

Victor made the same wish every night. Watched him drink in the awe and the wonder, bathing in applause once the reflection of ice-like flames died from within his dark eyes. Eros on the stage, poise and seduction toying with his audience like he toyed with Victor in their bed.

Every dance between the sheets or against darklit corner walls, with thick thighs wrapped around his waist and the marks of nails buried in his back, was like waiting to be burned. Bracing for the impact, never able to prepare for the days when gods fell. Confidence disintegrating into ash, spilling between the cracks faster than he could gather. Set aflame, and Victor could only watch as the world incinerated around him.

Holding the charred edges of his phoenix to him. Stroking through dark hair and kissing at eyelids smeared with kohl and glitter. Feeling himself crumble as Yuuri clung to the fabric of his shirt as if in fear that it would break apart between his fingers.

Except that phoenixes were always reborn, a bit brighter and stronger than before. Gods didn’t die. Neither did Eros. He stood more brilliant than before, with fire in his hands and his eyes and his heart. Danced on the embers of his own defeats, dosing them until they winked out of existence. 

Victor would burn for him, every time.


	9. A BMSCV Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Off-season but I forgot to post it here

“Hey gorgeous, wanna make some magic together?”

Victor should have known better than to look up. Because that was a warning line if he ever heard one. Coupled with that absolute purr layering Yuuri’s voice, sultry and mischievous. The sound of it alone made Victor pulse with the most pleasant discomfort, the knowledge of what that tone promised.

He looked up. Oh no. Oh yes. Oh no, no, no. He was in trouble. Massive trouble.

If asked for a list of his favorite things, the top twenty or so categories would be of things related to Yuuri. Yuuri skating. Yuuri snuggled in a blanket burrito on lazy mornings. Yuuri playing with Makkachin. Yuuri making coffee. Yuuri drinking coffee. Yuuri in sweats, in suits, in his Team Japan jacket, in nothing at all. Yes, maybe it was all a bit much, but he was a man in love and he refused to be ashamed of that.

Now, in front of him, was a brand new Yuuri. Customary blue frames replaced by round wire-rim glasses. Long black robes with a gold and red insignia on them. Cheekily messy bangs parted to give a glimpse of a lightning bolt scar. His lips quirked at the corners, smirk on his glossed lips. God bless Chanel, why had Victor not already brought every case available?

“If you come over here, I’ll make sure that you’re not just the _half_ -hard prince anymore.” Yuuri made a stroking motion over the wand in his hand in a manner that Victor could only describe as obscene.

“Oh my god, Yuuri, you actually watched them…” Victor could not imagine anything more terrifying. He had been desperately hoping that Yuuri had pulled the dialogue lines off some script or online forum. That Yuuri had not really watched the films. However, that hope was shattered with the way that Yuuri pushed off their hallway wall, slowly licking his lips and flicking his tongue over the tip of the wand.

Nope, that was definitely a cue-by-cue reenactment coming back to haunt him. Only this time Victor did not know whether he should be thoroughly embarrassed or inappropriately turned on. Because Yuuri was shamelessly mimicking his porn parody. And because _Yuuri_ was shamelessly mimicking his porn parody.

Yuuri slid a leg forward, from between a slit in his robes. Showing off the smooth expanse of his skin with an infuriatingly slow reveal of… thigh-high fishnets. With a golden garter. Victor had thought the use of it in the film was ridiculous and horribly out of character. He did not think so anymore.

“Don’t you wanna show me why it’s really called the Shrieking Shack?” Yuuri asked, his dark lashes full and fluttering and fuck, he was wearing mascara, where did he even…  
Victor tried to remember if there was a spell for reviving a dead man. Probably not. He could invent one. Something to do with true love’s kiss. Or true love’s ass, bent over the bed.  
Before Yuuri could finish the next awful porno line, Victor swept Yuuri up into his arms, cutting him off midway through something about _Felix Felicis_ and _feeling lucky_.

“What are you doing, trying to kill me?” Victor hitched Yuuri up against the wall, mouth on his throat, hooking Yuuri’s leg around his waist. The fishnets snagged on his fingers as he ran a hand along the underside of Yuuri’s thighs, holding him steady.

“I’m Yuuri Potter,” Yuuri giggled, character breaking with his adorably awful attempt at a British accent. Victor preferred his laughter to a million bad sex puns.

“What does that make me?” Victor asked, already hopelessly lost in the sweetness of Yuuri’s skin and the sparkle of honey glinting in his eyes.

“Viktor Thickiforov, starring as—” Yuuri’s teasing comment turned into a squeal of delight when Victor pulled him off the wall and threw him over his shoulder. He laughed at the light spank to his ass, squirming as Victor carried him to the bedroom. “Victor, no, we need to get to Phichit’s party! I got you Slytherin robes, you gotta!”

Yuuri bounced when Victor dropped him on their mattress, scrambling to reach over and toss the green and silver scarf which had been laid out around Victor’s shoulders.

“Oh, we will. But if you’re gonna make fun of me, then we gotta reenact this the whole way through,” Victor answered, pinning Yuuri down to the bed, hands above his head.

Yuuri arched up, ghosting his mouth across Victor’s. “Are you gonna Slytherin to my Chamber of Secrets?”

“Yeah, I’ll speak Parseltongue to you and all that.”

“I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean.” Yuuri’s smile could fill his heart to the edge of bursting.

“Shut up.”

“Make me, Thickiforov.”

Victor drank the laughter straight off Yuuri’s lips, till it turned to soft pleading whimpers.

He had to profusely apologize to Phichit for making them late to the party.


	10. BMSCV: Yuuri's 25th Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in the BMSCV au, a year after chapter nine

When Victor teased Yuuri about waking up so early to go skating on his birthday, Yuuri just shushed him with a kiss to his forehead and a promise that they could meet for breakfast after.

When Victor showed up at the rink wearing a glittery birthday hat meant for Yuuri and carrying a takeout tray from Starbucks with a frothy whipped-cream-topped drink that was certainly was not in Yuuri’s diet plan, Yuuri swiped it from his hands and took a giant gulp before Celestino could shout his dispproval.

When Victor tickled birthday wishes and a couple promises not safe for skating against Yuuri’s ear, Yuuri blushed but smiled with eager anticipation.

When Victor proceeded to clap his hands together and went to strap himself into a pair of ice skates, Yuuri laughed. In their past year together, Victor had gotten onto the ice only a handful of times and each one ended with Yuuri kissing the vast bruises on his hips, consoling his boyfriend that it was impossible for him to be perfect at everything. Victor always promised that he would do better next time, only to make a bigger fool of himself then.

So when Victor stepped onto the ice and did not immediately slip, Yuuri paused.

When Victor glided with clean and steady strokes to the center of the rink, Yuuri got off the bench on which he had been sitting and slowly approached the wall.

When Victor posed and the music streaming through the rink played the opening notes to an aria, Yuuri clapsed his hands over his mouth. Because Victor started to dance on the ice, in imitation of Yuuri’s new free skate. Each movement was practiced, almost effortless. Victor, who during the summer had fallen on his face twice when attempting to go backwards for the first time, was skating Yuuri’s routine and looking beautiful.

When Victor held out his arms in open invitation, Yuuri realized that the music was not based in strings but in piano. Victor was not skating the aria from Yuuri’s favorite opera, he was skating the duet. Yuuri was on the ice and in his arms in the same moment that the soprano joined her tenor.

When Victor led them through the routine together, void of jumps or complicated spins, a simple dance on the ice, Yuuri felt his heart skipping each time that his eyes settled on his partner. Victor’s smile held softness, affection in his gaze as he caressed Yuuri’s cheek and pulled them close together as the notes faded out. Yuuri caught his breath on a kiss, heart swelling to the point of bursting when Victor whispered, “ _tanjoubi omedetou_ ,” against his lips.

The months of practice Victor had surely put into his gift were all undone by Yuuri literally throwing himself into his boyfriend’s arms, sending them both falling hard onto the cold ice beneath.


	11. Talk to Me

"Your free leg is sloppy!"

Yuuri listened.

"Over rotated!"

"Under rotated!"

"Your rhythm is off."

"You need more height on that, build up your speed."

"Again."

"Again."

"Again."

"Again."

"I know you don't think that was right."

"Again."

There were days that Victor's coaching was beyond rough. It was brutal. The razor edge of his sharp Russian accent cut across the ice and straight through Yuuri's concentration. Constant critique, nudges, notes, questions. Victor's voice echoed in his head and beat him down. Angle, speed, height, step, turn, bend, dance, jump. 

Fall.  

"Again!"

Yuuri jumped again. 

There were days when they left the rink not walking side by side, biting back words that would only serve to hurt. Dinner would pass, tense. Only one of them would take out Makkachin for her presleep stroll. Yuuri would lay on his side in their bed, scrolling through his social media feeds without reading anything. He'd hear the lightness of Victor's feet on plush carpet, the rustle of bed sheets at his back. 

Quiet. 

So much so that Yuuri could hear the steady tick, tick, tick of the expensive wristwatch laid resting on Victor's nightstand. 

Yuuri would press the power button on his phone, extinguishing the blue light as he turned over to bury himself in Victor's side. Or Victor's arm would slide around his waist, pulling him close with a kiss to the nape of his neck. Gentle apologies. Raised frustrations. Entwined fingers and snapped comments. Concession. Confession. Communication. Tired smiles as Yuuri's toes nudged at Victor's ankles. 

No matter how cruel the day had been on their spirits, they never fell asleep bitter. 

"Better!"

Hope. 

"Yes, just like that!"

Pride. 

"Beautiful, one more time!"

Yuuri jumped one more time.

"Perfect! Absolutely perfect, Yuuri!" 

Smile soaring through his lungs, Yuuri turned sharp and skated fast. Victor's mouth did not have time to open in surprise when Yuuri kissed him, fingers bunched in his collar. Sweet. Like love. 

"Mmmmm... Maybe still a little sloppy with your free leg though..."

Laughing, Yuuri collected the powdered ice off the edge of his skate and flicked it at Victor's chilled and adorable pink nose. He still listened, nodding as he headed back to the center of the rink. 

When they were with each other, they always listened.


	12. Watermelon Thighs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from a dear patron

The festival was bright with colors from the booths steaming from hot plates of yakisoba and taiyaki grills, the banners waving temptations of shaved ice and soft cream. Voices rang out with chat and laughter, parents trying to hang onto running children, couples playing games and groaning with disappointment.

Victor, however, was mesmerized by one thing. His Yuuri. Victor had never spent a day in his life not looking put together until summer in Hasetsu. The heat wrecked his Russian soul, the humidity made his hair stick to his scalp, dripping off the strands as if the triplets had pushed him into the ocean. His face was flushed, skin burnt red from the spots he had missed swiping sun cream on, but his Yuuri remained beautiful.

It had to be magic, Victor asserted to himself. Ancient imperial spells that coursed through the water in the hot springs and left the people of Hasetsu impermeable to the heat. Victor had watched Mari hauling heavy boxes of pet bottles from the back of the family car under the afternoon peak, barely breaking a sweat while Victor sat with ice in his glass and a fan at his back, dying.

When sweat did bead and roll down Yuuri’s skin, it started at his temple and worked down his cheek to his jaw before dripping off like a gem. Yuuri swept his hair back and smiled, the line of his throat exposed as he tipped his head back, lips glistening with the sparkle of canned chuhai. Time together had relaxed Yuuri, made him comfortable, bold so that now it was he who sought out Victor’s hand to hold when they brushed together. A bit of alcohol made Yuuri into a devil.

Back at the inn, Victor watched with a dry mouth as Yuuri leaned back on his arms, his yukata hitched up and bunched behind him. The festival had been left behind when Yuuri’s eyes had landed on slices of watermelon, a laugh light on his lips as he confessed that in university his drunken party trick had been crushing melons between his thighs. Victor had wanted a demonstration.

They sat out behind the inn, between the springs and the garden Toshiya kept for vegetables. The rind of the melon between Yuuri’s thighs was a green so dark it was nearly black. Yuuri shifted, adjusting, and looked up. His heat messed hair fell into his eyes, bridge of his nose pink, honey gaze meeting Victor’s. Then, he clenched his jaw and squeezed.

The melon shattered and before Yuuri had a chance to move away, Victor was between his legs, sweeping the broken bits of fruit to the side. One hand lifting Yuuri’s leg, the other guiding them to fall open, Victor dropped. His mouth started at the crook of Yuuri’s knee and traveled up, tongue skimming the trembling thigh to lick up the trickling juices.

Yuuri’s breath hitched above him. His fingers, shaking, laced into Victor’s hair and the most fleeting whisper commanded, don’t stop. Victor didn’t. He sucked the sticky sweetness off Yuuri’s skin, a scrape of his teeth making Yuuri twitch and tighten his hold. Yuuri’s thighs were a godsend, thick from the work of their sport. Victor kissed up every millimeter, nuzzling in. He could build a home between them.

“Ahhhh, V-Victor…” The breaking, mewling encouragement of Yuuri’s voice had Victor hotter than the peak of the Kyushu summer.

Victor curled his fingers into the line of Yuuri’s briefs, and with a smirk, dove under the bunched yukata.


	13. Reverse Siren AU

_(Patron prompt: Reverse Siren AU)_

“Cap’n, he’s here again.”

Yuuri felt his heart sink as it soared. A contradiction, but as was his problem. For the past couple of weeks, Yuuri’s ship had been plagued by a siren. With wings of gold and hair of silver, he followed Yuuri’s ship and… that was it. No songs to call Yuuri’s ship into running itself aground, no claws threatening to rip out her belly. Everyone on board was at unease, as the siren would occasionally drop from the sky and dart between the sails, chirping at Yuuri. Or at someone. Maybe it wasn’t Yuuri. Yuuri just felt like it was directed at him. Or hoped. Which was a bad thing to hope for, as captain of a navy ship. But… the siren was objectively gorgeous. That was beside the point! The point being that Yuuri and his crew were being pursued by a siren and the risk that posed to their voyage was genuine.

The siren was flying toward the ship, his wings spread wide, casting gold across the waves. Something was different. Normally the siren played with the ship, dipping beneath her rails before rocketing up to perch on a crow’s nest, flapping away if any members of the crew dared approach. There seemed to be determination writ across his face today, etched into eyes of a blue deeper than the clearest sea.

Yuuri swallowed down a gasp that got caught halfway up his throat. He had certainly not been having a few rather inappropriate fantasies of being trapped in those beautiful wings, held down by the siren’s strong arms, which were on full display. The siren wore only a skirt wrapped around his hips and Yuuri had commanded himself not to look up in the couple times the siren had flown overhead… Yuuri wasn’t a very good commander. He had no idea how he ended up with his own ship or why his men obeyed his orders when even he couldn’t obey his own orders.

Skin marked in gold, the siren descended and Yuuri stumbled back, hands fumbling for a sword or a gun or something to defend himself because this was it, it had been weeks of the siren playing with its food and now it was going to come down and eat him, and Yuuri really would not mind being eaten by the siren, but that was in a figurative sense, with a mouth on his ass, not in a literal sense of his ass actually in its mouth.

The siren landed, claws turning to dainty feet, toes curling around the railing to steady himself. Rings of gold, adorned in gems, sparkled off his toes. Cute. No, not cute, Yuuri was meant to be defending his ship from the siren scourge who was… who was… dancing?

Wings spread in full display, the siren danced along the railing. He threw his long, silken silver hair, feet moving in precise ballet steps set to no music. Yuuri was entranced. Feathers swept forward, reaching out toward Yuuri, his arms embracing himself as he twirled and jumped, jumped, jumped, prancing in a ridiculously charming sequence that reminded Yuuri so much of the dances done by birds of paradise.

“Ohmygod,” Yuuri breathed out, wondering what he had done to be able to witness something so beautiful, and then the siren squawked.

Taking to the air, the siren flashed his golden colors once more, only Yuuri saw something different. The gold feathers had been interlaced with the soft shade of rose, littered with specks like glitter that could have blinded Yuuri when they caught the light. He spun, showing off as he continued his dance mid-flight, blue eyes continuously fluttering to Yuuri, as if curious for a reaction.

Hands dropping off his weapons belt, Yuuri smiled.

The siren gave off a chirp of utter delight, twirling, wings beating hard to propel him forward and–

“Watch out!”

–smacked straight into a mast. Crumpling, he fell as Yuuri rushed forward, throwing out his arms to catch the rose gold creature. Oh, he was so light, so absolutely stunning up close. Lashes of silver, sharp jaw, full lips and those blue, blue eyes which fluttered open to gaze upon Yuuri, shooting a cupid’s arrow straight through his heart.

“Oh… oh no, you’ve caught me.” The siren whispered in the sweetest voice Yuuri had ever heard. “You witnessed my responding mating dance and now you’ve caught me, if you accept, I’ll have no choice but to become your mate…”

“Ummm…” Yuuri did not know what to say “Your mating dance?”

“Yes! What did you think, I practiced a lot, I was just waiting for my colors to come in for you!” The smile the siren wore was heart-shaped. Impossible. Adorable. “Did you like it?”

“Yes?” Yuuri replied, unsure of what was happening. “I did? It was very… unqiue.”

“Amazing!” The siren swooned, melodramatically, hands clutching over his heart. “I shall build you a beautiful nest and bring you rocks and we will mate into the sunset!”

It was morning. “All in one day?”

“Only if you’d like!”

His arms laden with gorgeous, smiling, charming siren, Yuuri nodded slowly. He kind of liked already. “Yes, okay?”

Another chirp in his ear, Yuuri was bowled over, wrapped up in wings and arms, with happy kisses falling all over his face. He and Victor did mate into the sunset, and every sunset from then on, happily mated for life.

 

* * *

 

_(Patron prompt: More reverse siren au)_

Mating season with Victor was beyond anything what Yuuri could have imagined. Victor was always beautiful and eager. Their first year around, Yuuri had been unaware of the molting process, but their second season together, he had learned. Victor turned into a mess, in near tears whenever Yuuri saw him featherless, muttering about nightmares of going and staying bald. It did not help when Yuuri tried pointing out that at least his hair was not thinning. 

After a week of trying various methods to calm and reassure his siren, Yuuri had an idea. He collected and sorted all of Victor’s molted feathers, getting rid of any that were too damaged or that Victor would not deem pretty enough. He stitched them into a golden cape, which he wrapped around Victor while he was dozing. Victor had woken up ecstatic, nuzzling into Yuuri and refusing to let go for the rest of the day. The cape kept him content until he finished molting and his colors came in. 

Normally, Victor was happy-go-lucky. He approached life with a heart-shaped smile, with humor, with a spirit that perked Yuuri up on his darkest days. During mating season, Victor turned into a menace. As soon as Yuuri awoke in the mornings, he was pinned to the sheets, moaning as Victor claimed him. He loved the duality, loved seeing how the switch could flip in his mate. Victor told him that he loved Yuuri for the same, for how his soft and gentle captain turned hard and commanding in the face of battle. 

Yuuri did all that he could to keep Victor happy. Victor could be over the top at times but it was never too much, and any issues they encountered in one another usually found an easy compromise. They worked well together, despite all their differences. Victor’s current request, however, was too much. 

“Yuuri, please!” Victor whined, clinging to his mate. He had his arms around Yuuri’s waist, holding him from escaping their bed, his wings stretched out behind him. 

Yuuri had his eyes screwed shut, fighting the magic of Victor’s voice. Though Victor made sure to keep his words from turning to a command, his requests were still an influence. Every inch in Yuuri’s mind strained against the absurdity of his suggestion, while his heart pounded a rhythm of _yes, yes, yes, do it._  

“Victor, I can’t.”

“Siren mates do it all the time! It’s the true conclusion to a mating dance! We would dance together to the music of our singing voices, and so naturally and beautifully join together as one!” 

Yuuri could picture it. Spinning with Victor, wrapped in his arms and his wings, Victor’s song against his mouth as they kissed and fell into oblivion. That, that was the problem. The falling. “I’m not a siren.”

“But I am.”

“Victor, I don’t have wings. I can’t fly.” Yuuri had flown in Victor’s arms before, yes, but what Victor was proposing was a step too far. What Victor wanted to do was a proper siren mating dance. Which consisted of the mating couple flying high into the sky together, dancing and singing to each other, flooded with the exchange of love. That sounded lovely, and Yuuri had almost accepted, except then Victor had added one more note onto his explanation, which was that the mating dance ended in… mating. Victor wanted to fly Yuuri into the sky and have sex with him. In Yuuri’s opinion, that could not end well. 

“I’ll hold onto you.” Victor was pouting. Yuuri hated it because he fell for it nearly every single time. Victor blinked his silver lashes over those big blue eyes, stuck out his full pink lower lip, and Yuuri would be on his knees within moments, clutching his heart as a result of the direct assault. Not this time. He was going to resist, he was going to fight back. He was going to stand his ground against his siren mate. 

Yuuri rubbed his face with his hands, steeling himself. Victor’s voice wove into him, the magic whispering that he could trust Victor, that it would be fine, that it would be glorious. Yuuri would fly with a siren, would experience all of Victor’s love how it was truly meant to be experienced. For a moment, up amongst the clouds, Yuuri could be the siren mate Victor deserved. “You want me to wrap myself around you and let you fly us?”

“Yes.”

“And once we’re in the clouds, you would twirl us around in a dance and we would sing to each other.”

“Yes.”

“And then you want us to have sex.” Yuuri would admit that it would be a one-in-a-no-valid-number-because-he-was-certain-no-other-human-had-ever-had-that-experience. He tried to imagine it. His arms thrown around Victor’s shoulders, legs wound around his waist, crying out as his siren mate thrust into him, strong wings keeping them high in the air. Objectively, that sounded rather amazing. He would have to surrender himself completely to Victor, put his trust and his life into his siren’s hands. They would paint the clouds with their love, share an experience like none other. 

“Yes.” Victor smiled and Yuuri’s heart did a little flip. Oh no, he was starting to crack. “Well, full on sex might be difficult with your lack of wings, but I think we could definitely stroke each other off. If you wanted to try penetration, I can keep us low to the water, but I promise I won’t drop you.” 

Yuuri knew that Victor had given up so much by becoming Yuuri’s mate. Victor was happy living on a ship, happy serving in the name of the navy with Yuuri. However, he could not hunt ships as freely as he wanted to, he could not partake in all the siren customs of a mated pair. Yuuri could not dance for Victor like a siren, could not sing for him like a siren, could not sink ships or give him peeplings like a siren. But Yuuri did all that he could, whenever he could, because Victor deserved nothing less. 

Sighing, Yuuri nodded slowly and pressed his lips to the top of Victor’s head. He pulled out of Victor’s embrace, telling him he needed a moment. Yuuri did trust Victor with his life, he had no reason not to. 

Yuuri went to his desk drawer and kicked open the bottom cabinet, pulling out a bottle of hard liquor. Getting drunk would not be smart, but he would certainly be in need of some liquid courage. He did not bother with a glass, downing a few mouthfuls straight from the bottle, and slammed it down against the table. It was crazy and stupid, but Yuuri was crazy and stupid for Victor.

“Let’s do it.”


	14. Assorted Tier Prompts

_(A request for Celticfox, who wanted smol Yuuri)_

The first time Yuuri stepped onto the ice, he was five years old. His mother held his hands, but he still slipped and landed on his butt. He was pushing himself back into a wobbly stance before his mom had a chance to help, determined. Yuuko was on the other side, skating circles around another boy, and Yuuri wanted to be able to do the same. 

It was his ballet teacher who suggested Yuuri try ice skating. He was the only boy in her classes, recommending ice skating to his family as a way for him to make some more friends. He got along well with Yuuko, but since she had graduated to the next level in ballet, the two were separated. Ice skating could have them together again. 

Yuuri liked ice skating. In the summer, when everywhere else was too hot to stand, Ice Castle remained cool. He liked carving patterns into the surface while doing figure eights, liked trying jumps and how other kids wowed with wonder when he skated backwards. 

He didn’t like Takeshi, at first, who was a couple of years older and liked cutting Yuuri off, but that changed after Yuuri learned how to jump a single axel. Takeshi had grumbled and bumped into Yuuri, until Yuuko had suggested that Yuuri help Takeshi land his. As soon as Takeshi landed it, he dropped his head in a bow to Yuuri, and after that the three of them were inseparable. 

Yuuri still went to his ballet lessons, and after one recital, he tried doing his dance routine on the ice, adapting the jumps and the movements. Okukawa-san had been there to observe him and, after the fact, insisted that he devote more of his time to skating. So Yuuri did. 

When he was seven, he attended his first skate camp in the summer, taking the bullet train up to Okayama. That was nerve-wracking. Almost everyone there was older and more advanced, some of the teens attempting and landing triples. One of the days, a foreign coach came by and gave instructions in accented English. That was how Yuuri learned the proper pronunciations for techniques and the names of jumps. When he got back to Saga, Yuuri asked his dad for English books, even though school would not start teaching him the language for a few years. He studied and practiced with Okukawa-san, greeting her “ _Hello!”_ when he came to the studio and saying, “ _Thank you, goodbye!”_ when he left. 

At ten, Yuuri got his first real costume. _Matrix_ -inspired, black with neon green lines that accented it, meant to look like lasers. It had been Mari’s suggestion, his sister having said he would look cool wearing that. Yuuri had jumped on the idea and begged for the design. Watching television, however, Yuuri liked how the costumes of other skaters sparkled in the lights. The night before they were supposed to leave for Yuuri’s first major competition at the Japan Novice Championships, he stayed up all night with his mother, gluing tiny green rhinestones to his collar. 

Yuuri was so nervous that he fell on every jump in his short program, breathing hard and holding back tears when he came off the ice into his mother’s embrace. She told him it was fine, to listen to all the cheering, and handed him a flower that someone had thrown. Yuuri clung to it and smiled, turning around to wave to the small crowd gathered around the walls of the ice rink. He did not find out until years later that the rose had been thrown by Mari. 

His second skate went just fine, and Yuuri scraped a bronze medal. It weighed heavy around his neck and Yuuko jumped in delight, hugging him for the very first time when he brought it back to Ice Castle. It stayed there on display till two years later, when Yuuri won gold in the Novice A Category and earned himself an invitation to the Japan Junior Figure Skating Championships. 

Okukawa-san wrote a check out to his family, under the name of her ballet school, to help with the expenses for the trip up to Hiroshima. Yuuri was there when his family argued with her over bottles of sake at the onsen, but she insisted and said if they didn’t take it, she would just hand Yuuri bundles of cash when they weren’t paying attention. Yuuri had his first sponsor. 

Yuuri liked skating. He liked being good at something, liked the challenges, liked the feeling of dancing on ice. At school, he did not have many friends, too shy and quiet to keep up with the other boys. At the ice rink, he had a lot. He liked traveling, liked when competitions meant his father loading up the back of the car or taking him to the train station to buy bullet train tickets. Okukawa-san told him it would not be long before he would be competing against skaters from overseas. It made him nervous and excited, eager to try out his English. He had seen foreigners only a couple of times, around Hasetsu station, but chickened out from greeting them at the last moment. 

His skating coach gave him the homework of watching the international competitions when they came on television, provided they were broadcast before his bedtime. His parents taped them for him sometimes, showing him the other Japanese skaters. Yuuko sometimes came over and they would watch together. She had just missed the qualifying margin for Junior Worlds that year but said she did not mind, because the next year, she and Yuuri could qualify together.  

There was a small television at the ice rink and they huddled around it to watch the highlights of the World Championships. Yuuko was excited, chattering away about the Russian skater who had won gold and pouting that she had missed her chance to meet him. When the news clip played, Yuuko grabbed both Yuuri and Takeshi’s hands, jerking them to attention so they could watch him. 

Junior World’s Gold, the font in the corner read, Victor Nikiforov. Yuuri watched him skate, watched him spin, hair of silver and the face of an angel flashing across the screen before him. 

In that moment, Yuuri fell in love with ice skating. 

 

* * *

 

_(for hydroplaning, who wanted a fic where Mari meets Sara at an event)_

“Hey, lil brother.” Mari grabbed Yuuri around the shoulders, rubbing her knuckles into the back of his head. The Barcelona banquet was underway, celebrations into full swing. No doubt, by the end of the night Yuuri would be happily drunk off champagne or plastered to Victor. Or, in more of a likelihood, both. For a pair of high profile skaters and a higher profile couple, the two were shameless when together, especially when combined with a few drinks. “Is that heavy?” She indicated toward the silver medal around his neck.

Yuuri ducked out from under her arm. “Think I can manage.”

For five years, most of Mari’s glimpses of Yuuri had been through the television screen. His competitions, his interviews, a couple commercials. The Yutopia television was always tuned to the Yuuri channel whenever he was scheduled to make an appearance. 

There were Skype calls now and then, Mari catching her brother's eye as she passed behind her parents. She’d deliver a line, telling him not to screw up if he looked nervous or that he wasn’t training enough if he looked upbeat. Because she knew everyone would be saying the opposite, and that sometimes Yuuri needed a push toward bluntness. When Mom and Dad mentioned that Yuuri had an event coming up, Mari would wave them off as if in dismissal. She’d already have it entered into her phone calendar.

Time differences made it hard to watch competitions live but now and then, Mari would wander into Minako’s bar at half past two in the morning, strike up a smoke and they’d watch together. If NHK wasn’t airing the skates, Mari preferred a Russian stream. She had gotten used to Yuuri using them in high school. 

Back then, the buffer took ages and the lag was atrocious, but Yuuri had remained glued to the edge of his seat. To think how time had changed. Seven eight years ago, Mari had watched a teenaged Yuuri looping videos of a certain silver-haired skater with stars in his eyes. Now she had the actual legend watching Yuuri with hearts in his. The reality had settled that she might soon gain a new brother. Welcome to the family, Victor. 

“Cool. Don’t trip over it,” Mari said, ruffling Yuuri’s hair. Victor reached up to correct the placement of the strands the very next moment. 

“So what are you supposed to do at these banquets? Schmooze?” she asked in English. She had learned that word from Yuuri not long after he’d started living in Detroit and couldn’t remember the Japanese version while complaining about said schmoozing. It fit perfectly into her vocabulary. 

“We eat, drink, make merry,” Victor replied, his hand dropping to Yuuri’s shoulder once he finished lovingly fidgeting with Yuuri’s hair. “And chat up the sponsors. Yuuri’s gonna have a long night ahead of him.”

Mari barked out a laugh, turning her head to scope out the nearest table. She had already resolved to play it cool, even though the majority of the skaters were there. Including Chris and Yurio. 

There was the possibility that Mari had a photo of each tucked into the back pocket of her dress pants. For autographs. Or something. Yeah, the blonde munchkin had lived with them a while but now he was the golden medalist and she wanted to slap him on the back with congratulations. The Chris one would mainly be a favor to Minako. “So then you’re not gonna introduce me to anyone ? Do I gotta find my own way around here or are you gonna set me up?”

Mari followed the men’s skating pretty closely. She had skated back in elementary school and junior high, but the sport had not stuck with her like it had with Yuuri. She hated the repetition while Yuuri savoured the chance at perfectionism. Pairs and ice dancing, she knew almost zero about. The women’s she watched in passing. Mainly cause getting too deep into too many hobbies would put a strain on her social life. The little that she had outside the onsen. 

When Yuuri looked lost for an answer, Victor covered for him. He called out to the redhead that had won gold in the women’s skate, waving her over. Mila. As much of a powerhouse on the ice was she was beautiful. Russia’s darling. There was only one female skater that Mari enjoyed more when she had the chance to indulge. 

“Milashka, have you two met? This is Yuuri’s sister, Mari.”

They hadn’t met. Mari had seen the women’s free skate though. Mila had dominated the competition, a full ten points ahead of second place… Who was standing right beside her.

“And this is Sara.”

There was a second reason why Mari didn’t follow women’s skating closely. Yuuri had his crush on a skater, and she had had hers. Only hers hadn’t worked out as well. She’d had her third year high school heart broken when her favorite skater declared a simultaneous retirement and engagement. Ever since then, Mari tried not to let herself get too roped in. Easier said than done. 

Sara wore a strappy dress that fell into loose ribbons over her chest, her hair sleek and her skin close the rich shade that Mari’s took in summer. She smiled at Mari with glossed lips, her eyes flashing purple when hit by the lights just right. Mari had two types. The small fiesty blond in her favorite boyband that Yurio reminded her of, and a certain Italian fraternal twin that looked like a princess on the ice. 

Mari’s mind desperately searched for hello in Italian but kept coming up with French instead. Not what she needed. 

“Sara and Mila can show you around if you’d lik--”

“Yes,” Mari interjected, having a very odd and rare moment of self-consciousness. She hoped her hair band was on straight, cause her heart wasn’t. She snatched two glasses of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray, holding one out to Sara. “Can I offer the fine lady a drink?”

Sara laughed, as light and delightful as the way Sara executed her spins.  “Sure, I’d love one.”

Italian accents were supposed to sound sexy coming from men, but coming from Sara, it was stunning, wrapping the syllables into a gift. Mari had spent years agonizing Yuuri for falling for  foreign skater. Now she totally got it. 

She pulled off the move of making sure her hand brushed Sara’s as she handed over the glass of champagne and got another smile in return. Hell yeah. Forget Paris, Mari was gonna make Barcelona the city of love. 

 

* * *

 

__

_( _for celticfox, who wanted a Harry Potter au where Otabek helps Yuri with some spells)__

Yuri had been repeating the same charm for what felt like hours and it was really getting on his nerves. Most difficult defensive spell his ass, if Katsuki could produce it then he should be able to manage as well. Professor Baranovskaya had told him it was to be expected, that most wizards who mastered the spell did not do so until well into their adult years, if that. _Happy memories, Yura_ , she had instructed while not even a puff of smoke was cast from the tip of his wand, _Knocking Leroy off his broom in your last match isn’t a_ happy _memory._

Maybe knocking JJ off the broom wasn’t the happy memory, but seeing him faceplant in the sand below had definitely been one. What other happy memories was he supposed to produce? Half his week had been spent avoiding Victor, who had finally convinced the Katsudon to spend a day in Hogsmeade together. The two had been grinning like idiots since they’d gotten back. If Yuri didn’t know better he’d think someone had hexed them with an _Epoximise_ spell, their hands seeming to be permanently glued together. 

“ _Expecto patronum_ \--come the freak on already!” Yuri huffed, at the point of blaming his wand for the lack of production. He had been practicing the charm for weeks and the most he had ever gotten out of it was a splurt of silvery vapour which he had compared to Victor’s thinning hair. There, that was a good memory, wasn’t it? Why couldn’t he use that, huh?

“You’re still trying.” 

Yuri spun around, ready to cast a jinx or chuck a shoe at whoever disrupted him. 

The green of Otabek’s tie was loose, sleeves of his robes hitched up as he leaned against the doorway, watching. His expression was as neutral as always and it made Yuri scowl. “What are you doing here?” The purpose of practicing alone was the _alone_ part. He did not need someone standing by as he failed over and over again, it would only drive his nerves to shreds quicker. 

“Librarian heard you cursing up a storm and sent out for someone who wasn’t afraid of getting bitten by an angry tiger.” 

Yuri could not think of a comeback biting enough that wouldn’t also target Otabek, so he dropped it. “It’s not working!”

“It’s not an easy spell.”

“Yeah, I know that.” If it had been, Yuri would have had it figured and moved on weeks ago. He wasn’t a crazy book nerd and any assignments for the likes of History of Magic classes he put off to the last minute before scraping something together. But when it came to charms or transfiguration spells, Yuri would be damned if he let anyone master the magic before him. Even the most famously tricky of hexes or curses tended to crumble easily to his brute determination. Pride came with accomplishment and humiliation came without it. Yuri was not fond of the latter. 

“What memory are you using?” Otabek asked, walking further into one of the private library study rooms. Yuri used them whenever a bit of magic was giving him trouble, plowing through till morning if needed. All so that in the next class, he would have it mastered while the rest of his classmates were yet to be figuring out the basics. 

“Leroy’s broken nose.”

“That’s pettiness, not happiness.”

“Says you.” Watching the school nurse casting a spell on JJ’s smashed face had been the highlight of the month. Otabek gave him a flat look, which Yuri knew meant he wasn’t buying into the defense. “Well, what do you want from me?”

Otabek shrugged, taking his wand out from his robes and laying it down on the nearby desk. “To help.”

Yuri huffed, tightening the grip on his own wand. If he needed help--when he admitted as much--Otabek was the person he went to. If desperate, he would seek out Victor, but that doofus would probably tell him to think of the Katsudon as if that could everyone else happy too. Yuri had been trying this spell for weeks and every time the results got weaker. The rest of his class had moved on, resolved that the magic was too advanced for them to accomplish at this stage in development. But Yuri wanted it. 

“Close your eyes.”

“That’s dumb.”

“Are you gonna listen or not?”

Yuri closed his eyes, fists clenching. He had considered that the reason he could not produce a patronus was the lack of danger. There was no sense of immediacy. A trip into the Forbidden Forest would do the trick. Not the forest itself, but getting caught might led to him being skinned by Professor Okukawa. Her normally easy-going nature vanished when angered, enough to frighten a fully-formed patronus out of first year.  

“Think happy.”

Scoffing, Yuri’s opened his eyes again for the purpose of throwing a glare. “What do you think I’ve been trying to do this whole time?”

Otabek stared back, blank and not taking the bait. “Yura.”

“Fine.”

The room settled into the hum of quiet. Aware of Otabek sitting on the corner of the desk in wait, Yuri raked his brain for happy memories. He had been happy when he got Potya, a gift a few weeks before he had first left for school. She curled up with him when he needed the company and chased magically conjured mice when he didn’t. Except he had already tried thinking of her and it had not worked beyond a few wisps of smoke. 

He had been happy making the Quidditch team, happy winning the Cup for Gryffindor the previous year. That also had been largely because he could rub it into Leroy’s face afterwards. No pettiness. Happy thoughts. 

His first trip out to Hogsmeade, though that had been ruined by Yuuri and Victor flanking his sides in escort. They had bought him a butterbeer and laughed when his chocolate frog escaped from its box, never to be seen again. He tried the incantation again and felt a breeze, cracking his eyes open to see dissipating trails of silver. Not nearly strong enough.

“Keep going. Eyes closed.”

Yuri kept going. Getting his acceptance letter, his wand, his first house points. Going home in the summer and spending a whole day blabbing to his grandfather about everything annoying and cool that happened which he hadn’t managed to fit into his letters. Mentioning Katsudon and then needing to explain the nickname, the next day sitting at the kitchen table as his grandfather served up a large plate of katsudon-piroshki. Washing down hot mouthfuls with iced apricot kompot and watching his grandfather’s whiskers twitch when he choked, having wolfed down the food too fast for his own good. 

That wasn’t happiness. That was content, a routine that Yuri looked forward to when every school year wound down. Others would be lamenting time spent away from the school, a couple months of not being able to perform magic, but Yuri always had his bags packed the day before the train ride back.

_“Expecto patronum.”_

Wind caught his hair, blowing aside overgrown bangs. Yuri’s eyes snapped open, jaw gone slack as he watched silver spill from his wand. Not fading and breaking like before, the wisps curling as if in attempt to make form. 

“Hold the memory, Yura, don’t let it go.”

Yuri grappled with excitement, trying to hold the image of homemade food and his grandpa. Summer was slow. Fishing, trips out to the dacha in the rattling old Soviet car that didn’t make it half the time. 

The patronus took shape. It was small, with four legs, a curled tail, and twitching pointed ears. Yuri jumped, pumping his fist into the air. “It’s a fucking cat. I have a cat patronus, fuck yeah!” 

The silver animal burst into smoke, broken. Yuri was already launching himself at Otabek. He could not manage a bear hug, but he still tried to squeeze the air from Otabek’s lungs. “Thank you!”

Otabek did his best to pat Yuri on the back. “You’re welcome.”


	15. Resolve

_(Prompt: Victor trying to teach Yuuri Russian/a fight resolved)_

“Drop it, okay, I don’t want to talk about it anymore!”

It was like a glass breaking, shattering across the floor at their feet. Shards dug into the bare soles of Victor’s feet, leaving him stuck, afraid to step forward or back. The tension in Yuuri’s shoulders was so rigid, that if Victor reached out to touch him Yuuri would crack. So he didn’t. He simply stood, uncertain, not knowing what to do.

This wasn’t the rink, where their frustrations built and spilled over into snaps that could be washed away by the showers. This was their home. And the simmering bitterness sat like a heavy layer of dust over everything, suffocating. “ _Fine, then don’t talk_ ,” Victor spat back, in Russian, making the words bite. Yuuri winced.

The silence was ugly. It crept up the walls that were normally so warm, so welcoming, and tore them down until the comfort of home was non-existent.

“I’m taking Makkachin out…” The collar and leash jingled in Yuuri’s hand and he called Makkachin’s name, the inflection on it lilting in Japanese. He didn’t slam the door on his way out. Victor wished that he had.

The house was left even quieter. Victor washed the dishes from their dinner gone cold, dumping the chicken in the trash. Yuuri didn’t come home. Victor took a shower and brushed his teeth, eyes down on the sink, unable to look at his reflection in the mirror. Yuuri didn’t come home. He prepped and set out their gear for the following morning. Yuuri didn’t come home.

When Victor slid into bed, the room dark and threateningly alone, he hugged Yuuri’s pillow to himself and cried into it, still waiting, waiting, waiting for Yuuri to come home.

The clock rounded the hour before he heard the lock on the door, Makka’s nails on the hardwood, the cascading of water in the shower, and the whirl of the blowdryer.

The mattress dipped. “That’s my pillow…”

Victor lifted his head and slid his own over to Yuuri, turning away from him. Yuuri laid down next to him, but didn’t touch him and Victor did not know if he wanted it or not.

The door creaked when Makkachin padded inside and jumped on the bed, settling at their feet to doze. Victor still waited, listening to the uneven breathing beside him, to the palpitations in his own chest. Finally, he turned and buried his face into Yuuri’s chest. “Don’t leave… When we fight, you don’t have to talk to me, you can go in a different room, just… don’t leave.”

Yuuri was quiet for a moment, taking it in, and then he nodded, his arms sliding under Victor’s waist and around to hold him. “Okay. I won’t.”

It was still dark, but Victor could make out the folds in Yuuri’s night shirt, see the steadying rise and fall of his chest, feel Yuuri’s heartbeat like the notion of sanity under his palm.

“Your English is too good,” Victor muttered into the fabric. It muffled his words but he knew Yuuri was listening, his hand coming up to cradle the back of Victor’s head, fingers tangling into hair. Comforting. Yuuri was so good at that, at mending the broken little pieces back together so that Victor felt more whole than before. “When you get angry, you talk so fast I can’t keep up.”

“I’ll try to slow down.”

“Don’t,” Victor said, sigh heavy as he glanced up. The underneath of Yuuri’s eyes were irritated, red and puffy like they had been rubbed repeatedly by the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “…You don’t have to do the interview in Russian.”

“No, you’re right, I should.”

“It’d be good if you did, but if you’re not comfortable, it’ll show and it might make it worse.”

“All I need to do is practice.”

“Not like that,” Victor said.

“Yeah, not like that.” Yuuri confirmed, one arm dropping from around Victor but the other stayed, a reassurance at the small of his back.

They had been preparing, for the application to change Yuuri’s visa. From athlete to fiance. Piled up on everything else, it simply had not been working. Yuuri was trying, Victor knew, he was working and practicing and reciting, but he was also Yuuri and his small mistakes built up on his consciousness until his frustrations and anxiety got to a breaking point that Victor was still figuring out how to manage. They weren’t perfect yet. Not as competitors, not as coach and student, not as a couple. But they were getting there, bit by bit.

“Why does Russian need to have a gajillion syllables just in the word hello?” The joke was sour coming off Yuuri’s tongue, but it relieved the pressure squeezing in around Victor’s heart.

“It only has three, darling. And I’m pretty sure gajillion isn’t a word.”

“That’s your bad English there.”

“You wound me.”

Yuuri’s laugh was like a blessing, splintering through the dark, and Victor wanted to fall into it.

“Can we…” The concentration settled between Yuuri’s brows, crinkled at his nose in a manner that had Victor wanting to kiss it. “Can we practice the questions at the rink? While we’re skating. I have my routine down, so instead of giving me directions on it, ask me the interview questions. And coach me through them.”

“Mmmm, I can do that. Tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

Victor tipped up and kissed Yuuri’s cheek. “Then we’ll try tomorrow,” he said and turned onto his side, smiling when Yuuri followed to hold him from behind.

 _“Spasibo, Vitusha.”_ Yuuri muttered into his hair, returning the kiss by touching it to the nape of his neck.

Victor closed his eyes and settled into the feeling of home. _“Pozhaluysta.”_

 

 


	16. eternal love

_(for hydroplaning, who wanted more Mari/Sara, but with a twist)_

“How old were you?” Sara asked, her voice soft, on the verge of trembling. After a few years together, she had come to suspect something. It was never anything obvious, nothing glaring, but small details. Waking up in the middle of the night to find her partner gone from bed, the seasonal slump Mari had in the summer that occured on the hottest and brightest of days. Mari’s looks had not seemed to have changed a single day, but Sara had accounted for it to be those good Japanese genes that simulated eternal youth. 

“Twenty-five,” Mari replied, standing while Sara sat. The atmosphere in their kitchen had never been so tense, not through any argument nor any strained family visit. Sara’s parents had not had a problem with her living with a woman, but they did have a problem with the fact that she had chosen some non-Italian. Her brother had a problem with it being a Katsuki. They had gotten along better over the past year, after Sara had announced her intention to get engaged during a holiday huff. 

“And your brother too?”

Mari nodded. “We were both offered it when we turned eighteen. Yuuri was going to go live overseas and accepted. I had thought I still looked too young at eighteen, so I wanted to wait.” 

“Does Victor know?”

“Yuuri told him before they moved to St. Petersburg together.”

“Is Victor one too now?”

Lips pursing, Mari crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. “That is not the point. That is not what we are talking about.”

“Is he?”

“Sara, that doesn’t matter, it’s different for them.”

“How is it different for them?!” Sara questioned, voice going tight, her hands bunching into fists at her lap. “What, are they special somehow? Is there some exception to the rules you’ve made up?”

“Those idiots can’t live without each other!”

“What, and you think I can?!” Sara snapped, then drew back, retreating. Her eyes shimmered, a dawning realization filling them and making them go wide. “Or do you think you can?”

“That’s not what I meant!” Mari raised a hand to her forehead, fingers rubbing at her temple. “You’re not thinking about what this means. This isn’t an easy choice, you haven’t considered it properly. This isn’t something you can take back. It’s not something that _I_ can take back. This is forever. In the literal sense.”

“How is it different from you wanting to marry me?” Sara asked, her gaze up, challenging. There was no ring on her finger, nothing formal, no promises made. But it was a discussion they had had in the past, as was natural. Mari had always been a little hesitant, and Sara had understood that. It was a lot, especially in the early stages. But now and then, a film about a marriage or a wedding magazine would make her smile and look at Sara in the softest manner that could only have one meaning. They had always been with each other with the expectation that this was it, that there would never be anyone else. And that, that was the real promise, Sara thought. “Or don’t you?”

“You know that I do, but now do you understand why I can’t?”

“So what? You think we’ll get tired of each other? Are you? Do I bore you?”

“Sara, stop—”

“Then what? Why is it so hard for you to imagine that I would want to be with you forever?”

“Forever is a long time, my love. Think about everything this would mean. You could never tell your family, you could never tell anyone. And think about the other lives, the ones you might have to take in order to keep yours.”

Sara rolled her eyes at that. “Please, I’m Italian, you think that would bother me? And eternity without my brother hounding me about my romantic choices? Sign me up and bite me now.”

Mari stopped, her hand dropping, fingers around her chin to try to hide the smile breaking out. It did not work, a small laugh slipping out and spreading until she had to let it loose in full. She shook her head, sighing deeply, and then drew closer. Chair pulled out, she sat down next to Sara, reaching out to hold her hands. “I want you to think about it. Really think about it.”

“I have,” Sara answered, her fingers lacing into Mari’s. “Have you? What are you going to do if I don’t? Are you going to stay with me as I age, growing old and weak? I know you love me. Are you prepared to watch me die as you stay young?”

“I can age myself,” Mari said quietly, though her grip grew tighter. “Like my parents have.”

“But you can turn yourself back, can’t you?”

Mari nodded. 

“Are you ready for that then? Are you okay with that? Putting me into a grave after I’ve become grey, after my knees have gone and maybe so has my memory?”

Mari went silent, her thumbs stroking over the backs of Sara’s palms. “That’s a very manipulative thing to say.”

“That’s the truth.”

There was silence between them, for a while. The clock on the back wall ticked steadily, like a heartbeat. Outside, the night had settled into bright starlight and the gleam of a waning moon. Sara did not let go of Mari’s hands, holding on, unwavering. “It hurts, you know.”

“So does skating, yet I still do it every day.”

Mari smiled, though it remained strained on her lips, a challenge. “After the season then, once you retire. But not before then.”

“Afraid it’ll be cheating?” Sara asked though she lit up, her hands squeezing in. “Will I get super strength like you?” She had seen Mari lift the sofa with a single hand to vacuum underneath and heave her drunken father over shoulder like it was nothing.

“Everyone’s different. It’s based off on what you want most.”

“What was Yuuri’s?”

“I thought it would be skating, but turned out to be the power to seduce men,” Mari chuckled and rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t use it often though.”

“And Victor’s?”

“Haven’t asked. I’m afraid he’ll say it’s something like making my brother happy in bed.”

Sara laughed and tugged on Mari’s hands, touching a kiss to her knuckles. “You’ll really do it then?”

“If it’s really what you want. An eternity with me.”

“I couldn’t think of a greater fate.”

“Then forever it is.”


	17. Chapter 17

_ (Prompt: Toshiya Meets Hiroko) _

 

The life of a siren that had left its parents’ nest was a lonely one. Sirens were a solitary creature, as more than one in a region could lead to it being over hunted and left bare. Sirens were by nature competitive and too many ships gone missing would mean they would stop coming altogether. 

So they kept to their own, until the season came to find a mate. Toshiya had considered how to best approach his first year of seeking. He wanted the best mate he could find, someone strong to hunt with, yet kind to raise peeplings with. A companion he could keep for life and love more with each rising sun. He would not let himself be stunned by the first pretty wings he saw, he would reserve his courting dance until he met the perfect siren, even if that meant flying far and waiting a season or few. 

As he molted, Toshiya built up his nest. He had found a beautiful island, unclaimed, with a crescent cove and white sand beaches. Inland, vegetation grew a plenty, ripe with fruit and flowers. There were jagged cliff sides perfect for a haven in which to stay dry when summer storms rode in, and the sea was lush with coral reefs onto which ships could shred their bellies. 

Even if he only stayed for a season, it would be a comfortable life. The time between courting and ships’ passings, he could study the plants and tend to the island birds, swapping loneliness for leisure. 

Toshiya lined his nest with the best treasures he had yet collected. The last ship he had sunk had been sparse on precious metals, but it had carried fabrics rich in textures and colors. He carefully braided silks of indigo, lining the base of his nest, admiring how the colors matched his incoming wings. 

His own dark blues were coming in deeper than ever before, the shade of midnight illuminated by a full blue moon. He had noticed new highlights on the fully grown feathers too, speckled with the lightness of the midday sky. His wings had reached their full mating colors with his maturity, and Toshiya was ready to dazzle any siren he saw as worthy to be his mate.

The first day that his molting had finished, Toshiya stretched his wings out and turned, admiring himself. Gorgeous indeed. His regular wings were nothing to scoff at, but like this… He was ready. He took to the sky, ecstatic to feel the wind through his feathers. The weeks of molting had left him itching for flight, no better feeling than the rippling of the breeze in his wings. 

He had tied his hair back, looped it with blossoms of blue hibiscus growing on the island on the off chance he might encounter another. If his colors had finished coming in, so might others. 

Toshiya flew low and slow, letting his feet dip in the warmth of the sea. He hummed to himself, letting a melody vibrate across the water. It was not long before he heard one echoing back, a siren’s song rolling along the waves. He headed straight for it.

It was beautiful. A voice, ethereal in how it dripped with honeyed sweetness, calling out. Not a mating song, but one of temptation, luring in sailors with promises of love and wealth, of heaven’s gate just at their fore.

Toshiya saw the island first. Unlike the soft sands of his, the beach was scarred in volcanic rock, sharp and piercing. He saw the ship next, sailing straight for it, like it was being pulled on the leash of the song. Then he saw her. And his whole world came crashing in around him, in the same moment that the ship smashed its face into the rocks.

Wings of vibrant pink shone iridescent in the sun, sparkling as she flew, her body so petite that if Toshiya wrapped her in his wings she could disappear altogether. The feathered tufts at her ears kept back locks of chestnut, but even at a distance Toshiya could see that spark of red flaring from her eyes. If pink was meant to be delicate, she proved to be nothing of the sort. 

Her claws tore through the mast of the ship like she was snapping freshly sprouted branches, her force splitting the ship in half. Her song did not falter as she painted the sea red, her wings sweeping men overboard with a grace of a dancer, her robes soaking in the blood of those she granted the privilege of succumbing to her hands. 

Her song had not even finished, the lyrics barely having turned from sweetness to that of death, yet the ship and the sea around her had gone still. She landed on a shredded sail, feet dainty as she perched, examining the havoc beneath her with a light but unmistakably prideful smile. 

Toshiya did not even have a moment to think, not a single nerve firing off logic in his brain. He landed at the stern of the ship, clearing his throat, and chirped out to her. She turned, lashes full and lowered, gaze settling on him with curiosity.

Toshiya thrust out his wings and immediately proceeded to dance.

 

* * *

_(Prompt: Freckles bonding with Yuuri)_

Guang Hong wore the biggest grin when he returned to the ship. He had found a post station and sent off another letter to Leo, bought some fresh food with a bit of the money he had  earned , and found the absolute best thing he could have hoped for. He clutched the newest edition of the Silverlock series to his chest, protecting it as if he were holding a baby. 

The only thing Guang Hong really regretted about his very sudden decision to join Victor’s crew was the inability to bring his entire collection of novels with him. It would have been mighty useful to kill the time between encounters, and as much as Guang Hong had enjoyed scribbling his own version of Silverlock tales, he wanted to see how a professional handled the story.

The day was warm, the sun was out, the breeze was light, and the sky was blue. Guang Hong found a comfortable place on the upper deck to sit, back against a railing. He scooted his butt back, wiggling to settle in, and plopped the book open in his lap. What a good day to get lost in storytelling.

In the previous edition, Silverlock had a significant fight with his mermaid lover and was now on a rampage in order to win her back. Guang Hong chewed on his lower lip as he devoured the drama, nose buried in the pages, reading of how Silverlock had raided the oceanside estate of a royal to secure a treasure  the likes of which had never been witnessed on the high seas. 

He flipped through the pages so quickly he almost ripped one, a small squeal slipping from him at the image of Silverlock standing atop a massive pile of gold which he had transported and hidden away in a cove that filled with seawater at high tide. Wow, wow, wow. That would be enough to win Guang Hong over times infinity. 

He paused, clutching at his heart, a cloud’s shadow coming over him. Interesting shape, it looked like it had wings. Guang Hong glanced up and yelped, slamming his book shut. Yuuri had perched on the railing behind him and was gazing down, head tilted. 

“What, I’m not doing anything wrong!”

Yuuri, quiet as always, pointed to the book. 

“It’s mine, you can’t have it.”

Shaking his head, Yuuri mimed opening it.

Guang Hong did, returning to the page he had been on. Yuuri stepped down off the railing, his wings disappearing and his feathers sinking into his markings. He took a seat next to Guang Hong and poured down over the pages, before reaching out and touching a single word.  Silverlock.

“Yeah, that’s the main character,” Guang Hong replied, hesitant and suspicious. He was not sure what Yuuri wanted here.

Yuuri glanced around, his eyes searching before settling on the figure of the ship’s captain at the bow. His eyes narrowed, focused on Victor’s hair, then came back to the book. He looked at Guang Hong and chirped.

“I know, that’s what I said!” Guang Hong exclaimed, a grin spreading. “It totally fits him, right?”

The siren nodded. 

“I mean, obviously whoever wrote this got some stuff wrong, Victor is actually cooler in real life, but he’s gotta be Silverlock! There’s even a whole book about him taking on the navy!”

Yuuri nudged at the book, making Guang Hong close it so he could examine the cover. 

“Oh, this is the sixth one. It’s a series. I have the rest back home, but I could probably find them the next time we stop at a port if you wanted to read them?”

Another chirp. 

Guang Hong could see how Minami thought the chirps were cute. They were airy and sweet, sounding like they belonged to the happiest song bird. Plus Yuuri smiled with them, and it was definitely a nice smile, Guang Hong could admit that objectively. “Do you want this one after I’m done with it? To borrow?” 

Yuuri nodded eagerly, standing up. He held out a hand, palm out towards Guang Hong. 

Confused, Guang Hong went to hand the book to Yuuri, thinking he’d been misunderstood. But Yuuri was quick to shake his head in dismissal, hand reaching for Guang Hong. Guang Hong took it, surprised when Yuuri shook it like he was sealing a deal, the siren then leaving him to head for his mate. 

Guang Hong sat still for a moment, watching Yuuri, and smiled. Maybe the siren wasn’t so bad after all. He flipped to his page again, rushing to finish so he could pass the book off to Yuuri. Discussing plot points might be difficult to do with a creature that did not talk, but maybe they could figure out a way. Or Guang Hong could rant about all the things he loved about the books, surely Yuuri was a good listener. 

When Guang Hong finished, he hurried to give it to Yuuri, thrilled to potentially have a reading partner for the Silverlock books. However, when he got the book back, Yuuri was scowling, thrusting it back at him. 

When Guang Hong opened it, he found that the pages had been scribbled over, the words  mermaid and  tail having been replaced by ones reading  siren and  wings . Yuuri obviously had not enjoyed the part where Silverlock mated the mermaid.

Guang Hong considered himself lucky that the siren had not torn the pages out... He chose to avoid the topic altogether.

 

* * *

 

_ (Prompt: Guang Hong makes his own siren) _

 

“What are you doing?” Guang Hong muttered, peeking over Minami’s shoulders. Minami had invited him to share a room at an inn at port, splitting the cost so that Guang Hong could use more of his own coins for the good food he missed on board the ship and Minami could use his for whatever he was doing now.

“I’m making myself a siren!”

Minami had purchased a rather large pillow, nearly the length of his body. Guang Hong had gone with him to the shop, watching Minami browse and test out fabrics. After a solid dinner of meat and fresh greens that Guang Hong had never been so happy to eat before, Minami had taken up the bed with sewing supplies and a bag of feathers. 

“Making a siren?” Guang Hong repeated. 

Minami had a coal pencil in hand and on the cover of his overly large pillow, on which he was sketching out the form of a siren. Graceful limbs, unfurled wings, shaded in markings. Guang Hong watched Minami make quick work of the design, one definitely inspired by Yuuri. Once finished with his sketch, Minami took ink to the lines, carefully spreading the fabric out over the bed covers.

“You’re making a… Yuuri pillow?”

“Yep!” Minami replied proudly, blowing onto the pillow cover to help dry the ink. He dumped feathers onto the bed, threading a needle. “My very own siren!”

Guang Hong sat down on the edge of the bed, focus intent as Minami stitched real feathers into the traced outline he had made of the wings. Guang Hong could already tell that it was going to be a very long process. “Does Silverlock know about this?”

Minami’s head snapped up and his eyes narrowed. “No. And you won’t tell him. Or I’ll feed you to the chickens.”

One of Guang Hong’s worst nightmares was of being fed to the chickens. He gulped down the fear in his throat and nodded. “Can, uhhh… can you help me make one then?”

Minami’s eyes narrowed further. “...Of Yuuri?”

For a moment, Guang Hong considered what a pillow of Silverlock might look like. He thought it best not to challenge the siren though. If Yuuri found out, it was not the chickens Guang Hong would need to be afraid of. “No. Of… of Leo.”

“That blacksmith you were with?”

That’s right, Minami had seen them together, when the captain had been captured in the city. “Yeah, him.”

Minami lit up. “One Leo body pillow, coming up!”

 

* * *

 

_ (Prompt: Siren Yuuri meets Centaur Victor) _

 

The morning was beautiful, the winter sun greeting Yuuri as he stirred. Warm, so warm. He was tangled in the golden bed sheets of his nest, Victor sleeping against him. Yuuri nuzzled in, eyes closed as his lips swept kisses into the crook of Victor’s neck.  Love, love, love , Yuuri repeated in his head with each kiss he pressed, yawning. Long strands of silver hair brushed against his nose, making him smile.

Yuuri’s fingers snuck up, winding into… long strands. Long strands that no longer existed. Yuuri’s eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright. 

Victor continued sleeping, slack expression that of an angel. His Victor. With long hair. Not cut short by a blade, nor trimmed carefully by Yuuri post battle. Frowning, Yuuri leaned carefully forward. He touched the hair, the feel familiar. A gift, perhaps. Victor was always surprising him. Yuuri had been adjusting to the new length, but he sorely missed brushing Victor’s hair, braiding it at nights. Yuuri leaned in, checking the strands. He knew humans sometimes wore the hair of others, wigs, but when he tugged, the strands pulled at Victor’s scalp.

And drew out a whiney. 

Yuuri leapt from the bed, horror taking over him as he saw the shape beneath the covers. 

Not legs. Not Victor’s long, beautiful, strong legs but, but… 

Reaching with trembling fingers, Yuuri curled them around the sheets and pulled sharply. 

Anguish. A cry choked in his throat, knocking the air from Yuuri’s lungs. No. No, no, no, no. 

There were legs. Skinny, grey, hooved legs. Four legs. Too many legs,  too many legs! Attached to a horse’s flank! 

Yuuri shook, backing up slowly. No. What was happening, why, why his Victor, what curse had taken his mate and turned him into… into… a... “Hellbeast.”

The call of its name awakened it. Hellbeast Victor stirred, sitting up. Its too many legs moved, kicking the covers off their nest, leaving imprints in the mattress. Blue eyes landed on him, so beautiful, so warm, so much like his mate’s. “Lovebird, good morning.”

No!

“S-s-stop! Don’t… d-don’t move!”

It was tall, so tall, much taller than Victor with its horse’s body. Yuuri trembled, backing up against the wall. Hair spilled down its shoulders, down Victor’s body, down past where his abdomen turned into silver hellbeast, down to the floor. It snaked along the floor, stretching, reaching for Yuuri. 

“Lovebird, what’s wrong?”

“Hellbeast, hellbeast!” Yuuri screeched, feathers bursting forth, covering his entire body until he resembled a puffed-up chicken. 

Hellbeast Victor approached, reaching for him. Instead of arms, he had hooves. Not horse’s legs, but hooves the length of arms. He was going to stomp on Yuuri, he was going to stomp on him with hooves!

“No, don’t move! Stop!” Yuuri’s voice quivered with magic, trying to layer it as much as he could. But it did not work. His magic no longer worked on Victor, he was immune, Yuuri had given him too much of his voice. “Die! Die, hellbeast, die!”

The Hellbeast froze, staring at him with eyes of blue. 

Yuuri did not want it any closer, trembling where he stood, terrified. “Die! I order you!” 

“Lovebird…”

“Give me your hair and die!”

“But lovebird… Together… We can make eggs that will become baby pegasus. Imagine our flocks. Together, siren and hellbeast, we shall rule the world. Come. Ride me into the sunset.”

Yuuri looked at Hellbeast Victor. With his blue eyes and his rivers of silver hair, and his lower half of horse. Yeah, no. Not doing that. 

“Yuuri!”

Wings ripping from his back, Yuuri opened his fists into claws and charged, seizing fistfuls of silver hellbeast hair. “ Die and give me your hair!”

“Yuuri! Yuuri, stop, let go, what are you doing!?”

Hands, not hooves, grabbed his wrists. Yuuri’s eyes snapped open, breathing hard. His fingers were wound tight in bunches of short silver hair, shining in the dim moonlight coming through the windows. The cabin was dark. 

Victor was under him, holding him steady. “Yuuri, lovebird, wake up!”

Yuuri did not let go, heart pounding. He looked down, down Victor’s chest, down his abdomen. The rest of him was covered by Yuuri’s legs straddling him. Hurrying to scramble off, Yuuri tore the sheets off, seeing… Victor. No horse, no hellbeast. Just regular Victor legs, regular Victor dick.

Relief flooding him, Yuuri dropped, wrapping himself around Victor’s waist, kissing his hips and thighs in apology. “You… you were a hellbeast…”

“I was a hellbeast?”

“You were… gonna stomp on me.”

Yuuri heard a sigh and was tugged up. He could see red irritation along Victor’s hairline from how hard he had pulled on the strands. 

“Okay, you win. No horses when we get to shore. I’m sorry that I tried talking you into it. We’ll walk if we have to.”

Yuuri nodded, soothing a hand over Victor’s hair. “...Sorry.”

“It’s okay… I once had a dream you turned into a crow.”

Yuuri scowled. How offensive! 

He refused to cuddle for the next five minutes. 

 

* * *

 

_ (Prompt: Yuuri versus pillows) _

 

Feathers. There were feathers. Here a feather, there a feather, everywhere a feather.  Why were there feathers in his nest?!?!!!?!

Not only that but they were white feathers. Small, puffy, soft, downy,  white feathers. Yuuri bristled, his tattoos itching and spawning feathers of their own. Black feathers. Big, long, sleek,  proper feathers. 

A crack in an open window let in a breeze that blew one of the foreign feathers toward him. Yuuri jumped, sidestepping it hastily as if it would burn his skin to touch. The floor was littered with them, almost as bad as when Yuuri molted for mating season. He went stock-still.

...Had another bird molted in here? In his room?  In his nest?!

Even the tattoo at the small of his back threatened to explode out, so he would be the biggest most intimidating siren to any bird or otherwise that dared drop its filthy feathers in his nest. 

Yuuri inched forward, stepping carefully between collections of white fluff. The outside breeze had scattered them around as far as the door, but the starting point of the offense was obvious. Piles and piles had collected in his and Victor’s bed, disturbing Yuuri’s perfect golden nest. The siren felt like going naga and hissing. 

To make matters worse, the blankets and sheets were unkempt, their pillows shredded. Yuuri’s eyes narrowed, imagining himself throttling whatever goose siren had crashed his nest. 

Squawk!

Snapping around, Yuuri’s flaring red eyes glared to the corner of the cabin. Lutz and Axel sat on their perch, bobbing their heads. In their claws and beaks, Yuuri spied tufts of white feathers. 

His birds, his peeplings, the flying  parasite had gotten to them too!

Yuuri’s wings burst from his back and he screeched, hands morphing, nails extending into talons, the black of his tattoos prickling into feathers standing on end like quills. 

Boots fell overhead, rushing from the deck. The cabin door slammed open, Victor in the frame, hand on the hilt of his sword. “Yuuri?!”

Yuuri rounded, seizing a clawful of the white feathers. He threw it at Victor’s feet. The feathers, being as light as they, simply floated slowly down around the siren. 

Victor glanced around the room, scanning it quick, before his attention returned to Yuuri. Who was still standing amidst the slowly descending feathers. A smile cracked on his lips. “Lovebird, did you lose a pillow fight to the triplets?”

The red in Yuuri’s feathers spread, from the tips to replace the black near entirely. He stomped forward, feet leaving scratches in the floor. Seizing Victor’s hand, Yuuri scrawled less than gently into his palm.

“What?” Victor asked, brows scrunching under his silver bangs. “No, darling, there’s no other bird?”

Yuuri yanked around, pointing to all the evidence around the room. Literally all around the room. He could see a white feather balanced atop Victor’s weapons cabinet. Even he had never been atop Victor’s weapons cabinet! ...How small was this bird?

“Lovebird, those aren’t… Oh, did you think that another bird got in here?” Victor’s smile, which Yuuri normally adored more than gold, was very handsome and very irritating. “No, no, darling, that’s not at all… Look at the pillows!”

Yuuri had looked at the pillows. His beloved pillows. They smelled of him and Victor together, a soft wonder to cradle them in their sleep. Yuuri’s cliffside nest had had a few cushions pulled off the ships he’d wrecked, but Victor’s bed was a treasure of its own. It had calmed Yuuri on his roughest night, held the strength of their love. And now, it had been befouled by some tiny tramp of a goose! Befowled!

Yuuri jerked his head toward the two parrots, Lutz and Axel bobbing up and down excitedly on their perch. Witnesses, they had been there, perhaps they had seen the criminal! Yuuri chirped to them and they chattered back. Laughing. Providing no information whatsoever. Traitors!

“I think I know what happened here.” Victor lifted Yuuri’s hand, kissing his feathered knuckles. “May I?”

Eyes still narrowed in suspicion, Yuuri let Victor go. As Victor crossed the room, the warmth of his kiss sank into Yuuri’s skin, a comfort. The red in Yuuri’s feathers retreated. Victor would not let another bird into their nest, he was being ridiculous… Victor would protect the sanctity of their nest. Yuuri was his best bird, his only bird. Well, except the deviants in the corner.

Victor held out an arm when he reached the perch, Lutz jumping on it. He carried her over to the bed and took one of the shredded pillows, lifting it up to the blue parrot. 

Lutz hesitated, head turning to look at Yuuri. 

“Go on, it’s okay,” Victor said, running a finger along the back of her head in encouragement. “Show Yuuri what you and your sister did.”

Lutz squawked and dove headfirst into the pillow, beak tearing at the fabric. Her flapping wings sent feathers into the air, scattering over the bed and floor. A moment later, Axel flew across the room and plunged in with her sister. Squawks exploded, the two fighting for pieces of pillow, making a mess and covering Victor head to toe in white feathers. 

Lips pursed together, Yuuri took a single step, positioning himself in the center of the room. His wings spread, slowly, as far as the confines of the cabin would permit. Then, with a single beat, the force of his wings sent all the feathers, the parrots, and his mate flying. Victor turned shoulder, protecting the birds, stumbling to regain his footing. The white goose feathers all collected against the far wall. Taking a steady breath to calm himself, Yuuri opened his mouth to speak. “Explain!”

“Lovebird, did… did you not know that pillows tend to be made of feathers?” Victor asked. “That’s what this is. Looks like the girls got carried away playing and broke them, that’s why there’s feathers everywhere.”

Yuuri blinked. Pillows. Feathers. Soft, soft, lovely pillows made of…  the feathers of a different bird?!  He had been sleeping, with Victor in  their nest, with some plucked goose under them the whole time?!?!

Saying nothing more, Yuuri tore out of the cabin. His feet carried him up onto the deck and then down into the crew’s quarters. He grabbed every pillow he could hold, arms loaded, and returned to their cabin. Not hesitating, he tore the pillows open one by one, each spilling more feathers onto the floor at his feet. White, grey, peppered, tons and tons of tiny feathers of unknown birds which had been scattered through the ship, serving every shipmate without Yuuri’s knowledge. 

How many birds were on this damn ship?!

Yuuri fell down, on his knees in a pile of soft feathers. “...I thought I was the best bird….”

“Oh, Yuuri, lovebird, no.” Victor rushed over, sweeping away the feathers as best as he could. “You are the best bird. These aren’t real birds, look… Do you really want Chris drooling on you in his sleep?”

Yuuri shook his head a tiny bit, his eyes directed at the floor. A feather clung to Victor’s knee. He plucked it off and crushed it in his fist. 

“I’m sorry, Yuuri, I’ll get rid of them. All of them, okay? We’ll get pillows made of cotton, or buckwheat. Next port, come with me and we’ll choose them together. Feather pillows aren’t that great anyway. Your feathers are the only ones I want.”

Reaching forward, Yuuri traced a question onto Victor’s thigh.

Victor’s eyes went wide. “Oh. Yes, we can do that. Of course. I’d love it.”

Yuuri slid forward, wrapping himself and his wings around Victor. “I want to be your only bird,” he whispered. 

“You are, you’re the only bird in the world for me. My beautiful, darling lovebird.” Victor held him close, like the comfort of a nest complete in his embrace. 

Glancing up, Yuuri nodded, his feathers and markings settling into their normal state. Just then, Loop flew in through the window, carrying half a pillow with more feathers spilling out in her beak. 

Squawk of his own tearing out from Yuuri’s throat, he grabbed the pillow from her and threw open all the windows. Wings flapping strong enough to knock Victor onto his butt, Yuuri swept all the stupid dumb pillow feathers out the windows, sending a snowstorm out onto the ocean. With a huff, he slammed the windows shut and stomped out of the cabin, on a mission to rid the ship of any more offending pillows.

Cao Bin protested the seizure of his.

It did not end well for him.

 

* * *

 

_ (Prompt: Yuuri learns about Victor's Foot Thing) _

As anxious as Yuuri grew for the sky, he grew even more so after his hunts. Nights without his mate were long and cold, the thrill fading into homesickness once his desire for flight had been sated. As much as he loved his hunts, he loved nothing more than that soreness in his wings when he came in to land on the ship, knowing how good it would feel to rest them in the comfort of his nest.

Victor was on the deck when Yuuri came swooping in, his arms out to catch him. Yuuri dropped straight into them, nestling in the moment he was secure in Victor’s hold.

Yuuri loved everything about Victor. How he always came out to greet Yuuri if he knew Yuuri was coming, the strength in his arms as he carried Yuuri in, the chime of his laugh, the way he greeted,  “Welcome home, lovebird,”  with a kiss as punctuation. Yuuri could search the entire world a lifetime over and never find a mate more perfect for him than Victor. 

He never opposed Yuuri’s desires for flights, brought him ships to sink, warmed the nest for him. In just a few months, Yuuri had fallen so fast and hard it was a wonder he could still fly. 

Yuuri had made sure to rinse the blood off his robes and his skin before returning to the ship, but Victor still washed his hands and feet for him. Yuuri sat on the edge of their bed, eyes at half mast, as Victor held his ankles and wiped the soles of his feet with a warm wet cloth. Victor had offered, the first few times, when Yuuri had been less careful about ridding himself of the evidence of his hunts and somehow they had formed a habit. 

It was a comfort, a feeling of home, with how much care Victor took. He always started with Yuuri’s hands, sometimes pressing kisses to his wrists, then knelt down on the floor. Yuuri always wondered if Victor tired of it, and he had asked, but Victor always assured him otherwise. 

His fingers skimmed along the back of Yuuri’s calves, rubbing the sore muscles into bliss. When he washed Yuuri’s feet, he took his time, working from Yuuri’s Achilles tendon to the ball and around to the crest of the arch. Once they were clean, Victor would kiss the soles and make Yuuri laugh when he pecked at his toes before nuzzling into the inside of his ankles. 

Yuuri reached out, touching a finger to the whorl of Victor’s hair.  Don’t have to, he wrote. 

“But I like to,” Victor replied, lips tracing the feathered markings on Yuuri’s skin. 

Perplexed, Yuuri went to write more words and stopped. He watched, how Victor’s silver lashes fluttered shut as his mouth traveled the length of Yuuri’s lower leg, worshipping. 

“I can’t wash your wings, so let me wash your feet. They’re so rough from the cliffs, I want to be soft for them.”

Yuuri could not help but notice that Victor did seem to have a particular liking for them. Before Yuuri’s flight, he had pulled Victor onto him in their bed, wanting the feel of his mate against him as a lingering reminder when he flew. Victor had raised one of Yuuri’s legs when he’d thrust in, perching a foot on his shoulder. Midway, he’d turned, his elevated breaths hot on Yuuri’s skin and pressed a kiss to the arch, resting his cheek against it briefly. 

Is it normal? For humans?

Victor laughed and shook his head. “I suppose not. But there isn’t an inch of you that I don’t adore, lovebird.”

Nodding, Yuuri smiled and lifted a leg, draping it over Victor’s shoulder. He drew him close and leaned down to ghost a kiss. His other foot he slid up Victor’s leg and settled it high on his thigh. He felt the muscle quiver. “...Want to try something?” he whispered, lashes lowered. 

Victor blinked at him. “What?”

Rather than speak, Yuuri chose to show. If Victor wanted to adore every inch, then it was Yuuri’s responsibility as a mate to help him indulge to the fullest. 

 


End file.
